


Tropes You Love

by emwebb17



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:02:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3492761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emwebb17/pseuds/emwebb17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote (and am in the process of writing) short stories that employ fun (and sometimes tired, ha ha) tropes that most (but not all) people seem to enjoy in fanfiction.  Each chapter is a trope and each trope has three different versions of it.  The stories are either Destiel or Cockles and have a rating that ranges from General Audiences to Explicit.  The warnings/tags for each story are listed at the beginning of each section/new story.  Please take care to read them as not all these stories are fluffy!</p><p>Chapters that contain an (I) after them are incomplete, but will list the type of trope and a short description of the three stories that will accompany it (ratings are subject to change).  I have no schedule for updating this, unfortunately, as I write these as a way to stimulate my "muse" when I get stuck on longer fics.</p><p>If you see a trope you like that isn't included here, let me know if you think it should be.  Remember, these are tropes and not kinks--although some I have chosen kind of blur that line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soul Mates/Made For Each Other

**Made for Each Other/Soul Mates**

1.  ABO: True Mates - Destiel - Explicit

 

 

 

**1\.  ABO: True Mates: Destiel - Explicit**

 

_Warnings: public sex; heat sex (so dubcon for some people?); mention of past attempted rape (not Dean/Cas)_

 

 

“Just a little pinch…” the doctor said soothingly.

Cas’ eyes went wide as he caught sight of the gauge of the needle.  “Um…that’s pretty big…”  Cas sucked in air through his teeth as the needle went in with a sharp pinch, he felt pressure, and then the needle was out and the doctor was placing gauze over the entry point.

“Hold that please.”

Castiel held the gauze in place and watched the doctor dispose of the needle in a little red box.  He turned back to him with a smile.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Castiel shook his head, but his arm was kind of throbbing where the needle had gone in.

“The part that will hurt will be when it comes out,” the doctor said cheerfully.

Cas made a face of dismay and the doctor chuckled.

“Relax.  It won’t be that bad.”

He turned away again to write something in his chart and Cas pulled the gauze back to peek at the puncture.  It had stopped bleeding, so he raised a finger and probed gently along the underside of his bicep.  He made another face as he felt the inch and half long implant in his arm, already releasing small levels of hormones to suppress his heats and prevent pregnancy.

“So.  Do you have any questions for me?” the doctor asked.

“When will it start to work?” Cas asked.

“Right away.  But, to be on the safe side, we recommend you not having unprotected sex for twenty-four hours.”

“Not a problem,” Cas mumbled, half in self-deprecating humor.  “When will I start noticing side effects, if I have any?”

“Probably not for a few days.  Except for your sense of smell.  That will happen right away.  Things might smell a little differently to you—things you once liked might not be as pleasant as they used to be.  Other smells may be stronger, sharper.  But, that may not even happen.  Thirty percent of Omegas and ninety-five percent of Betas say they detect no noticeable changes.”

“But if I do, you said that won’t affect my ability to detect a compatible mate.”

“Oh, no, not in the slightest.  That is hardwired into your system and a change in hormones won’t affect that.”

“And, you said the birth control kicks in right away, but what about suppressing my heats?”

“That should be immediate as well.  Especially since you said you’re still a few weeks away from your next anticipated heat, correct?”

Cas nodded.

“Then you should pass through that time exactly like you will all future heats.  Now remember, this doesn’t act as a full suppressant.  Those can be dangerous and that’s why I recommended you try to the O-Calor implant.  However, since it doesn’t fully suppress the heat you will find that when you normally would have gone into heat that you’ll…um…be…more than usual you’ll feel…um…”

“Horny?” Cas supplied.

The doctor smiled.  “Not the medical terminology I was looking for, but yes.  You’ll have an increased libido, but it will not be a heat and it won’t feel like one.  It won’t smell like one either.”

Cas sighed quietly in relief.  That’s what he needed to hear.  Things had really changed with the civil rights movement of the 60’s, and Omegas and Betas and Alphas all shared the same social status, with a few lingering prejudices here and there, but in general life was fair and Omegas were no longer treated like property.  But civilization couldn’t control animal instinct and Omegas were still in danger if they went into heat in public.

Cas had never had a problem before, always keeping careful track of his heat cycles, but shortly after he’d turned thirty his cycle had changed without warning.  He’d been caught in the throes of a full heat in the offices of the real estate company he worked for.  He was the only Omega working that day and the Beta who answered phones had stepped out for lunch.  Cas had barely managed to make it out of the office and lock himself into his car without getting raped by the three Alphas he considered friends and colleagues.

He’d cowered in the backseat of his Accord as he’d called 911 and the three Alphas had prowled around his car, yanking on the handles and pounding on the roof and hood.  Fortunately with his scent cut off from them by way of being in the car, they had calmed slightly and weren’t outright charging the car or thinking about breaking the glass to get to him.  Two Beta police officers had arrived on the scene and escorted him home where he’d had to indulge in his box of toys.  Only, of course, after embarrassing himself by asking the two Beta officers if they wanted to stick around and fuck him.

Worst of all though, was returning to work a week later and sitting in a room with his three Alpha coworkers while they apologized profusely for their behavior.  Cas had tried to apologize to them for not recognizing the signs of his oncoming heat and putting them in that position.  It had been awkward for weeks after that.  In fact, one of the Alphas had resigned and found a job with a different agency.  It had been a year since then—a year of Cas taking suppressants so that something like that would never happen again—and things had finally become normal among them all again.

Unfortunately the suppressants had made Cas feel irritable and fatigued and made his joints ache.  That’s when Doctor Johnson had suggested he give the O-Calor implant a try.  It would eradicate all signs of a heat, but not adversely affect his health or moods.  The doctor swore by it as he used one himself.

“I know the implant is supposed to be good for three years,” Cas said and the doctor nodded confirmation, “but will it start to wear off once it approaches three years?  Is it possible that the hormone levels will taper off so much that I could start having heats again?”

The doctor shook his head.  “The implant is technically good for five years.  But, we recommend having it replaced every three just to be on the safe side.”

Castiel nodded.  He twisted his hands.  “So…my heats are…gone?”

“Until you take the implant out.  Or…if you happen to run across your ‘true mate,’ then his or her scent will override the hormones from the implant.  But, even for an Omega not on suppressants or anything else, coming across one’s ‘true mate’ will trigger a heat.  Of course the odds of anyone coming across their ‘true mate’ in this day and age is highly unlikely.  With the large population and migration patterns and globalization—we’ve become too scattered as a species for that to ever really be a statistical possibility.”

Cas smiled.  “Sure does happen in the movies a lot, though, doesn’t it?”

The doctor laughed.  “That is it does.  Have you seen the _Dark Rainbow_ trilogy movies?  I just love that Jason Vackles.  He’s such an… _Alpha_.  Isn’t he?”

“I heard he’s really a Beta,” Cas said dryly.

“Well.  He sure does _play_ Alpha convincingly.”

Cas shrugged a shoulder.  He thought it was pretty obvious the actor was neither quite one nor the other.

“Okay, you’re all set then.  Keep track of your scents and see if you notice a difference.  Let me know if you experience any side effects, even minor ones.  Otherwise, we’re good until your next annual checkup.”

Cas hopped off the table.  He shook the doctor’s hand.  “Thank you, Dr. Johnson.”

“You’re welcome, Castiel.  I hope this not only gives you an extra week every three months that you don’t have to stay indoors, but it gives you some peace of mind too.”

Cas smiled and nodded and took his leave.  As he was checking out at the reception desk, he was pleased to see that he’d only been in there for fifteen minutes.  He would have plenty of time to grab lunch before he needed to be in Old Town for the open house he was hosting.

~~~

Cas straightened the already perfectly placed information packets on the kitchen island one more time.  It was fifteen minutes past the start time for the open house, but he wasn’t worried.  Not yet anyway.  He knew people would come.  This place was a steal.  It was a three bedroom townhouse set on the end of a group of four.  It had been gutted by the previous owner and updated with all modern appliances and stylish furnishings and decorations.  It was close to shopping and a subway station, but was distanced from the loud clamor of the city.  It even had an attached one car garage.  It was on sale for a criminally low price because the owner had to unload it as quickly as possible so that he could afford to pay his mortgage on a new house three states away after being transferred for work.  This place was a steal!  So where was everyone, dammit?

The timer on the stove buzzed softly and Cas pulled on an oven mitt so he could take out the chocolate chip cookies he’d been baking.  Cas scented something warm and delicious in the air.  Which was a little odd since he hadn’t opened the oven yet.  As soon as he did he was awash with the scent of baking and melted chocolate.  It smelled incredible.  He frowned as he put the tray down on the stove and turned off the oven.  If he didn’t have heats anymore, did that mean he no longer had an excuse for going on a chocolate and fat diet once every three months?

“Hello?”

Castiel turned at the sound of male voice.  The man entered the kitchen and even over the smell of cookies, Cas could tell that the first thing he’d smelled—that warm, rich scent—had come from this man.  He was very tall and quite handsome and so clearly an Alpha.  He wore his dark hair in a sleek spill of locks to just below his ears and had cool hazel eyes.  His smile was like a thousand watt bulb and Cas eagerly drew closer to him.

“Hi.  My name is Castiel Novak.  You’re here for the open house?”

“I am.  My name’s Sam.”

They shook hands and Cas tilted his head just slightly.  It seemed like the scent was coming more from the man’s clothes than his skin.

“Well, Sam, feel free to look and poke around all you like.  I’m here if you have any questions.  Take one of these information packets with you.  It has the square footage, age of the house, recent upgrades, and other pertinent information such as which furniture comes with the house.”

Cas allowed his fingers to graze Sam’s as he passed him the packet.  Sam accepted it with a smile and no other reaction.  Cas deflated.  Well.  Even if he wasn’t giving off a reciprocal smell of Yummy Omega, it wasn’t like he was ugly or anything.

“So, I’ll do a quick walkthrough, but I need to wait for my brother.  We just moved into town and we’re looking for a place that will...accommodate two Alphas.”

Cas nodded.  It wasn’t uncommon for unmated siblings, especially Alphas, to live together well into their twenties or even thirties.  Sam looked like he might be somewhere on the cusp of those two decades.

“Well, then this might work pretty well for you.  There are two bedrooms and a full bath upstairs, but the third bedroom is actually on the lower level with a full bath of its own.  It’s a good way to have privacy, but still have a common area to share.”

“Oh, that sounds great.  Mind if I grab a cookie?”

“Please,” Cas said stepping aside and letting Sam brush past him.  He leaned forward discreetly and took a sniff.  There was that scent.  It was so good.  But, it really did seem like it was diluted somehow.  Cas wondered if the implant was already affecting him and he now found the smell of cotton to be enticing.

The doorbell sounded and Castiel excused himself to greet a young couple at the door.  He invited them inside, plied them with cookies and information packets, and then was rushing off to greet more guests.  Within twenty minutes there were several people viewing the townhouse and half the information packets were gone.  Castiel could already smell his commission.

“Mr. Novak?”

“Please, call me Cas,” Cas said to the young couple that had arrived after Sam.  “Can I do something for you?”

“I was wondering if you could show us the access to the attic.”

“Oh, of course, come this way.”

Cas talked about other charms of the house as he made his way up the three-turn staircase.  He walked to the end of the hall and pulled down on the cord that hung from a panel in the ceiling.  The opening revealed the pink interior of the insulated attic and a retractable ladder.

“Can I go up?” the man asked.

“Of course.”

“I’ll stay here,” the woman said firmly.

Cas smiled at her, and then followed the man up the ladder.  He paused just before sticking his head inside.  He smelled something—something…delicious.  Had he left another batch of cookies in the oven?  No, he’d only made the one.  And the scent wasn’t sweet…it was…spicy.  Delicious.  He shook his head.  Maybe someone was wearing perfume.  He climbed up into the tiny space and watched the young man poke around the insulation and the corners of the slanting interior of the roof.

Cas was usually all for someone being able to explore a house fully so that they felt confident making an offer, but this guy sure was taking his sweet time.  The attic was packed with insulation and had zero air conditioning.  It was stuffy and Cas was feeling hot.  He felt sweat gather on his upper lip.  He shifted uncomfortably and tried to keep his breathing even.  He pulled on the collar of his suit, trying to discreetly loosen his tie.

“Do you have any concerns?” Cas finally asked when the man was just standing there and looking around.

“No, no, it looks great.  I’m glad there’s a floor so we can use it for storage.”

“Yes, that is one of the features.  Do you want to discuss more back on the main floor?  There’s an air conditioning vent right beside the opening and…”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Cas turned and began walking down the ladder.  The coolness of the air conditioned hallway was a relief.  However, after the man had climbed down safely, Cas noticed that as he closed the opening to the attic, he still felt warm.  Very warm.  He considered taking off his suit jacket, but he was worried he had pit stains now.  Plus, he was certain he would cool down if he just stood still in the a/c for a moment.

Cas shifted from foot to foot as he tried to concentrate on the couple’s questions, but there was still that spicy scent in the air.  And it was stronger now.  Someone wouldn’t have started burning incense in a home they didn’t own yet, would they?  Even if they were, it wasn’t like any incense Cas had ever smelled.  It was making him salivate.  It was making him feel like…like he wished he could shut the man’s incessant questions by shoving his dick in his mouth.

Cas blinked.  That thought had come out of nowhere.  And why had it seemed so appealing?  He hadn’t had sex in a little while, but it hadn’t been so long that he would be having weird sexual fantasies about a man he wasn’t even attracted to.  Cas stopped mid-sentence in his explanation of what the HOA fees covered when he got a stronger waft of that scent.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “do you smell incense burning, or…”

The couple shared a look and then shrugged at Cas.

“I don’t smell anything,” the woman said.

“Ah.”  As that spiciness made his head spin a little, Cas shivered despite the fact that he was still hot and sweating even more than he had been in the attic.  He knew what the animal part of his brain was telling him, but he told that part to shut up because he had just gotten an implant to stop this kind of shit, goddammit.

“Well, why don’t I leave you two to wander around a bit more?”

Without waiting for an answer, Cas turned and walked quickly down the hall to the stairs.  He just needed to go in his car and blast the a/c and call Dr. Johnson and tell him the implant was having an adverse effect on him.  No problem at all.  His car was in the garage, all he had to do was make it past the kitchen and then go down one more flight of stairs…

“Castiel!”

Cas stopped dead in his tracks, and then turned horror-movie slow to look at Sam.  He was petrified that Sam and his stupid plaid cotton shirt had triggered some weird reaction in him due to the implant.  He didn’t have time to talk.  Why had he stopped?

“Sam, hi.”

“Yeah, so my brother finally made it.  Can you show us the garage?  He wants to know if his car will fit in it.”

Sam stepped to the side and revealed his brother leaning against the kitchen island, hoarding three cookies in his hand while he chowed down on a fourth.  And suddenly it all made sense.  Cas hadn’t been smelling Sam, he’d been smelling his brother’s scent on his clothes.  Maybe they shared clothes or lived in close quarters.  Heck, maybe the brothers just hugged a lot.  But that scent he’d smelled on Sam—that had been from Sam’s brother, Castiel’s Alpha.  He took one step forward, and as soon as he did slick rushed out of his hole and he knew two things: he was in full heat and his pants were ruined.

Everyone nearby smelled it immediately.  Even the Betas in the room were looking at him.  Cas noticed that Sam’s pupils had dilated and probably so did every other Alpha’s in the house as well.  _His_ Alpha swallowed the bite of cookie in his mouth and dropped the other three onto the island.  He crossed the room in three large steps, grabbed Cas by the lapels, and dragged him in for a kiss.  Cas already had his arms locked around the man’s back and hitched one leg up on his hip so that he could grind against his thigh.

Cas could smell a slight change in his Alpha’s scent.  It didn’t detract at all from what he was feeling, but he could sense the other Alphas were standing down.  Often times an aroused Alpha’s scent mixed with the smell of an unmated Omega, especially one in heat, could incite violence and even a fight to the death.  Whatever it was that Dean was exuding now, something triggered by finding his _true mate_ , it calmed the other Alphas and even made them somewhat submissive as they bowed their heads and backed away from the apparent imminent mating.

As his Alpha lifted him up and carried him to the kitchen island, Cas could see that most people were scooting out the door as stealthily as possible.  His Alpha’s brother was backing up too.

“So, uh…I guess I’ll come back and see how things are going in a couple of hours.”

His Alpha grunted a response and swiped the remaining information packets onto the floor with a hand.  He set Cas roughly on the counter top and immediately began tearing open his fly and yanking at his belt.  Cas gasped as his pants and boxers were down to his ankles before Sam had even managed to finish backing out of the room.

Then his Alpha was pushing his legs straight up by the back of his thighs, and burying his face in the warm wetness between his legs.  Cas let out an uninhibited moan and gripped the sides of the island as more slick rushed out of him to meet his Alpha’s tongue.  Cas squirmed desperately as his Alpha lapped at his hole, causing his slick to continue pour out of him at an alarming rate.  He was panting heavily and could feel his hole clenching down on his Alphas’ tongue every time it slipped inside of him.  That was great and felt nice, but they had time for it later.  He needed his Alpha’s knot.  Like ten minutes ago.

“Hi, hi, sorry to disturb.”

Dean raised his head and a low growl trickled out of his mouth.  The Beta had his hands in the air as a sign of nonaggression and leaned down to pick up one of the information packets.

“Sorry, just needed to grab one of these.”

Cas rolled his hips, trying to get his Alpha’s attention again.

“Alpha,” he whined.  He would have felt stupid for resorting to the porn cliché, but he didn’t know his name.

His Alpha kept his eyes on the man as he brazenly walked two feet farther into the kitchen to grab one of the remaining cookies off the baking tray.  Then he backed up, apologizing again, and left the room.  Moments later they heard the door shut firmly behind him.  Cas looked back at his Alpha was about to ask him for his name when the man shoved three fingers into him.  Cas screamed and arched his back.  When he opened his eyes, his chest was heaving and his feet were up on the counter—shoes, socks, pants, and boxers all mysteriously gone now.  His bare feet were brace on the edge and allowed him to spread his legs wide for his Alpha.  The man was smiling at him as he licked Cas’ slick off his fingers one at a time.

“Never tasted heat slick before,” he said, his voice deep and rough and making Cas writhe impatiently as more slick spilled out of him.  “Never tasted anything like _you_ before, pretty.”

“Feel better than I taste,” Cas said invitingly.

“I doubt it,” his Alpha chuckled, but he was pulling on the buckle of his belt and opening the fly of his jeans.  Fucking finally.

Cas bit his lip and raised his head so he could see it.  The smell in the room intensified as Dean’s sex was released.  Cas dropped his head back and felt a wash of something that felt suspiciously like an orgasm roll over his body.  His cock was straining, his hole was throbbing.

“Al-alpha, please.”

“Hang on, baby.  I gotcha.”

Cas let out a long, desperate whimper when he felt his Alpha’s cockhead enter his body for the first time.  He almost started crying as he pushed inside inch by inch by inch…shit how many inches were there?  Then he felt his Alpha’s balls, tight and heavy, snugged up against his ass.  His Alpha was completely inside him, and he was _huge_.  He was scalding hot.  Cas was trembling with the effort that it took to hold still and not propel himself off the island, push the man to the floor, and ride him like a little Alpha bitch.  That was a fantasy for another time.

“Come on, then,” Cas challenged.  “You don’t have anything yet.”

His Alpha’s hands clamped around his hips like a vice.  Cas sucked in a breath of eager anticipation.  Then he lost most of his ability for cognitive functioning as his Alpha fucked him with a fearsome wildness that had every thrust resulting in a mind-shattering explosion of pleasure across every nerve ending in his body.  No matter how wet and open he was, his Alpha was so big that every stroke felt like he was losing his virginity all over again with how tight the stretch made him.  Just underneath the sounds of Cas’ low moaning whine and his Alpha’s rough grunts, was the obscene squelching noise of his copious slick being fucked out of him by his Alpha’s dick.

Cas knew he was a dozen thrusts or so away from coming when he felt his Alpha’s knot begin to tug on his rim.  The feeling made Cas instinctively shove his hips back against the man’s, needing him to knot him immediately.  Come inside him and stay tied to him while he shot dozens of loads of hot Alpha come into his hole.  But he pulled himself together enough to push lightly on his Alpha’s shoulder.

“D-d-don’t kn-knot me-me f-f-for—”  Cas couldn’t even get the words out; the man was pounding into him so hard his voice shook.

Fortunately being true mates meant they must have been on the same wavelength because his Alpha pulled out completely, drawing a snarl from both of them.  Then the man grabbed Cas’ arm and yanked him off the counter.  He pushed the suit coat off his shoulders and then spun Cas around.  Cas braced his hands against the island and smiled as he felt his Alpha slide his hands on his bare skin, underneath his shirt and up to his nipples.  Then he entered him again, his knot just barely fitting inside with a pleasurably painful pop.  His Alpha thrust forward with short, desperate movements while his large hands kneaded Cas’ chest, his thumbs and index fingers occasionally rolling his nipples.  Cas reached up and back and grasped at the leather collar of the man’s jacket.  Then he just held on as his Alpha grinded against him, his body jerking with the effort to stave off his orgasm long enough to make sure his knot had completely swelled.

Then the man dropped one hand down and grabbed Cas’ cock.  He gasped and arched his back, pulling on the man’s knot.  His Alpha groaned loudly and buried his teeth high up on his shoulder, almost on his neck as it was the only skin he could reach because of Cas’ shirt.  His teeth didn’t break the skin though—it wasn’t a claiming bite, _yet_.  Cas barely noticed the pain on his shoulder as he was jacked roughly to a mind-numbing completion.  The Omegas and Betas he’d been with had always made sure Cas’ cock got a little attention too, but it never seemed to cross an Alpha’s mind that a male Omega still had a very much functioning penis.  But his Alpha did.  God, his Alpha was perfect.

Cas could feel the smile on his face as he spurted come all over his Alpha’s hand—and the hardwood floors.  That would be a bitch to clean up later.  Then the man’s hand spread flat across his abdomen and Cas let himself be bent forward a little more.  Then his Alpha was locked inside him and coming in hot, thick bursts inside him.  He could feel it.  He could feel himself being marked.  Being bred.  The Alpha snapped his hips forward as best he could once last time, pulling Cas back possessively with his grip on his abdomen.  He let out a low moan that was part growl and then bit down on Cas’ neck as the biggest burst of his Alpha’s seed yet flooded his hole.

Cas screamed as he orgasmed again with the punch of endorphins that resulted from his Alpha breaking the skin and creating a claiming bite as his saliva mixed into his blood.  He could hear the man’s own scream muffled by his shoulder.  They shuddered together for several moments as the changes they were experiencing altered their very chemical and biological makeup to bind them closer together.

“Fuck,” Cas whispered.

“You’re telling me,” his Alpha responded, sounding winded.  “Got any place was can, um, lie down for a while?”

“Couch.  Living room.”

His Alpha picked him up around the waist and under one leg and carried him somewhat awkwardly, but effortlessly, into the living room.  He sat down in the middle of the couch and then maneuvered them gently until they were lying on their sides, pressed together.  Cas was right on the edge, so he squirmed back against the man and he let out a hiss as his hand clutched Cas’ hip.  Another pulse of come warmed Cas’ insides.  He sighed happily.

They lay in silence for quite some time, just letting their fingers traipse along whatever skin they could reach of the other, which in Cas’ case wasn’t much since his Alpha was still fully clothed.  But it was peaceful and comforting and Cas felt so at home.  One of his Alpha’s hands was rubbing affectionately over his hip, while the other played with Cas’ fingers where their arms hung off the side of the couch.  He occasionally flicked his tongue over the tender bite wound on Cas’ neck, soothing the mild pain that had resulted from their mating.

“So, uh,” the man started, and then cleared his throat.  “My brother said your name was Cas-steel…?”

“Castiel,” he said with a soft smile.  “But I go by Cas.”

“Cas,” the man said, and Cas closed his eyes and shivered at hearing his name fall from his Alpha’s lips.

He licked his lips and settled his breathing, and then he asked, “And you are?”

“Dean.”

“Dean.  _Dean_.  Good to know.  I want to scream it next time.”

Dean buried his face in the back of Cas’ neck and moaned softly.  He raised his head, gave Cas’ claiming bite a couple of loving licks, and then settled his chin on his shoulder.

“I feel like I should be freaked out that I just mated and claimed some dude I actually hadn’t even met yet when I did, but…I swear this just feels so right.”

“True mates,” Cas murmured.  “Not just a fairy tale then.”

“No, I guess not.”

“Hm.  It is all very romantic.  But I do hope you’re not an asshole.”

“Hey!”  Dean lightly slapped his hip and Cas chuckled.  “Although…I kind of can be an asshole.”

“At least you’re honest and have no self-delusions.”

“Um…well…”

Cas did his best to look back over his shoulder at him.  Dean gave him a sheepish smile.

“We’re going to have to have a long talk about what my brother and I do for a living.”

Cas sighed.  “Am I going to wind up being the Bonnie to your Clyde?” he asked teasingly.

“No, of course not.  Well…not exactly.”

Cas tried once more to look at him over his shoulder.  Dean kissed him on the temple.

“Let’s talk about it when we can talk face to face.”

“That’s really reassuring.”

Dean kissed the back of his neck.  “Relax, pretty, I promise I’ll always keep you safe.”

Cas relaxed into his arms.  He believed him.  And really, how bad could it be?  Dean was just probably being melodramatic.

“So, what should we talk about then for the next forty to sixty minutes?” Cas asked.

“Um…did you do anything interesting today?”

“Well, I got up early to go to yoga class.”

“So you’re bendy.  That’s excellent.”

Cas could feel Dean’s grin against his skin and had to smile too.

“Then I went to Starbucks because the Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back early this year.”

“Frou-frou drinks, okay.  I think I’m starting to paint a picture here.”

Cas nudged him with his elbow.  “Let’s see, oh, yes, then I went to my doctor to have an O-Calor implant inserted."

“Um…a what?”

“It’s a small metal implant they put in the arm that releases low doses of hormones as a form of birth control and to suppress heats.  Even with insurance it costs a thousand dollars, but it’s supposed to last about three years.  Unless, of course, in the unlikely invent I were to run into my true mate and he triggered a heat.”

He could hear Dean’s soft snuffling laugh just behind his ear, his warm breath coursing down his neck and making him shiver in a very pleasant way.

“Three years, huh?  And you got about how much use out of it?”

“Oh, I’d say about three hours.”

Dean laughed and wrapped his arms around Cas.  “You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m not even sorry.”

Cas grinned.  “And I’ve never been so happy to throw a thousand dollars down the drain.”


	2. Hate to Love

**Hate to Love**

1\.  Natural Enemies - Destiel - Explicit

2\.  Mortal Enemies - Destiel - Mature (Explicit?)

 

**1\.  Natural Enemies: Destiel – Explicit**

 

_Warnings: total crack fic; demon species!Dean; winged angel!Cas; OOC-ness; self-lubrication; dubcon in the sense that Cas is saying “no” but…he really wants it (so, rape culture, but seriously--this is a total crack fic completely disconnected from reality)_

 

“Masters?”

“Here, sir,” two voices replied, one clear and one smoky.

The blonde and brunette glared at each other.

“Garnet?”

“Here, sir,” two voices replied, one annoyed and the other cocky.

The blonde and the brunette glared at each other.

“First?”

“Here, sir,” two voices replied, one youthful and one smugly British.

The blonde and the brunette smirked at each other.

“Winchester?”

“Here, sir,” one voice replied, the brunette sounding nervous.

Alistair looked up from his call list.  “Winchester?  Dean Winchester?”

“Here, here!  I’m here!”

Dean slid down the chain that was holding several souls over a pit of burning damnation.  They moaned as the movement aggravated their contorted and abused limbs.  Dean ran across the obsidian floor and skidded to a halt in front of his mentor.  Alistair tucked his clipboard under his arm and glared at the young demon.  Sam elbowed him hard and Dean remembered to drop his head and look contrite and obedient.

“Dean, stay put.  The rest of you, go see Abaddon for your assignments.”

The other demons threw looks of contempt and gleeful amusement at the kind of blondish demon who was surely going to receive another excruciating punishment.  He just hadn’t come out right, that one.

“You too, Sam,” Alistair said.

Sam glanced at his brother and then trudged slowly after the others, his pointed tail drooping between his legs.

“Winchester,” Alistair said in his oddly accented voice, “you are nothing but a disappointment.”

“I’m sorry, sir.  I’m late because I was—”

“Helping an old lady across a lava bed?  Putting the wings back on a fly?”

Dean frowned.  “No, of course not.”

“Winchester, you and your companions are going out on a Corruption Mission today.  I expect you to turn no less than three souls.  And none of those can be ones that are already on their way to hell like serial killers and rapists.  I want three pure souls: corrupted so badly they can’t be saved or willing to make a deal with one of the Crossroads going with you.”

Dean straightened and squared his shoulders.  “Three?  That’s nothing.  I can corrupt ten.”

“Let’s start with three.  You concern me, Winchester…you…have too much light in your heart.”

Dean gawked.  “Me?  Light?  Sir, my soul is the blackest pit of evil that there ever was.”

“Is that so?  Seems to me that if your brother burned his hand while torturing a soul on the rack a good demon, a _proper_ demon, would have laughed or burned him worse.  Not pat his head and bandage the wound.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped.  “I would have burned one of the Masters.  He’s my brother.  You make us in pairs for a reason, right?”

“I do.  But it’s not to make sissy pants out of you.”

Dean dropped his eyes to the floor and scuffed his toe on the smooth, black floor.  His tail flicked around in displeasure behind him.  Alistair grabbed one of his shiny black horns and pulled Dean forward.

“Three souls, Winchester.  Make me proud.  Or I’ll make you…no, I’ll make your brother suffer.”

Dean’s eyes went wide.  “I promise, sir!  I’ll corrupt a saint if I have to.”

Alistair sighed and released him.  “You’re supposed to say, ‘So? What do I care what happens to that snot-nosed rival of mine?’”

“Oh.”  Dean gave Alistair a forced smile.  “Um, so?  What do I—”

“Just go,” Alistair said, rubbing his forehead and pointing toward the others with his clipboard.

Dean scampered away, his bare feet slapping loudly on the hard floor.  He kept his eyes down when he greeted Abaddon with a proper insult.  She handed him a list with three names on it.  He didn’t recognize any names on the list; he’d half been expecting to see the Pope himself.  Abaddon smacked him on the side of the head and he hurried over to join the others in the sigil painted on the floor that would transfer them to the human world.  Sam looked at him apologetically.  Dean knew he should sneer at the kid and slap him, but he settled for just looking away from him.

Plain black clothes materialized on the demons as they made topside.  Abaddon’s voice floated from the fading spellwork, informing them all that Crowley the First (who was technically second of the First, which drove Lilith mad) was in charge.  They had three days to complete their missions, and then they were to report back to the same spot for transportation back to Hell.

They had been dropped off in a Fae forest, which wasn’t really the human world so much as it was human adjacent.  But it was safer making the transition into the human world when they could control where they were going by seeing where they were through the Fae world.  The humans were constantly reproducing and expanding like cockroaches.  It was always bad form for a group of demons to suddenly appear in the middle of a corporate meeting about the new shape of marshmallow for a children’s cereal.

“Follow me,” Crowley said, taking his leadership role way too seriously.

Dean rolled his eyes, but followed the group of young demons through the beautifully in bloom forest.  All of the bright flowers and sweet-smelling blossoms made Dean want to puke.  He watched as the Garnet girls flanked Sam.  He glanced nervously between them, but Dean knew Sam had a definite preference for the brunette Ruby.  The blonde Ruby was too whiny and resented the fact that her younger sister had been given the same name.  The Masters had the same problem, but brunette Meg was so blasé about pretty much everything that she had no problem going by “Hey You” while her blonde sister used their given name.

Crowley made his way to the edge of the Fae forest, and the group lined up so they could look out onto the human world.  Dean liked it when they went on these excursions.  Not for the corrupting, that was fun and all, but he loved the food.  And the movies and the music.  Humans were so much more creative than demons.  All demons knew how to do was come up with new torture methods.

“Okay,” Crowley said, “how many of you have targets in Asia?”

A few hands went up.

“Okay, then we’ll—”

“Wait!” Brunette Ruby cried out.  “Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?” Lilith snapped grumpily.  She really didn’t like not being put in charge, but after her last mission accomplished turning ten atheists into worshippers of The Douche That Shall Not Be Named With A Capital G—she’d been demoted.

Sam tilted his head up and sniffed the air.  “I smell it too.  It’s something—electric.  Metallic.”

“It’s ozone,” Blonde Ruby said.

“Angels,” the Masters sisters said together with a gleam in their eyes.

Everyone looked at Crowley.

“Like we’re not going to investigate?  Let’s go,” their leader said.

The demons turned away from the human world and crept through the forest, trying to sort out the direction of the sharp smell of Heaven from the nearly overpowering scents of the blooming forest.  Not very far away, the group of demons crouched behind a cluster of bushes and peeked over.  There they were.  No less than ten angels, bathing in a warm, Fae-spelled spring.  Their robes were littered haphazardly around the small pool and the angels were laughing and splashing each other.  Their skin, whether light or dark, gleamed flawlessly in the swath of sunlight that broke through the thick overhead canopy.  Large sleek wings of white and silver and gold were folded tightly against their backs.  One redheaded angel sat perched on a stone, rubbing herself with some sort of oil.  Her tits were small but bouncy.  Dean sniggered and nudged his brother.  Sam giggled back.  Brunette Ruby shot them a look and then rolled her eyes.

“I’ve an idea,” Crowley said.

The demons huddled up and listened to Crowley’s plan.  They would surround the pool and leave a small gap that would be the opening the angels would use to flee when they jumped out at them.  They would corral them toward the sigil through which they had come from Hell.  If one toe or feather crossed the seal they would be trapped.  They were bound to catch at least half of the angels.  Alistair and Abaddon would be tickled pink and surely they would be given first dibs of all the new souls entering Hell next quarter.

“Be sure to grab up their robes,” Lilith said.  “They can’t cross back to Heaven without them.”

“Don’t forget,” Crowley added, “we’ll jump out all at once and then taunt them for a bit before getting them to run.  We need them riled up.”

The other demons nodded.

“Alright, everyone spread out,” Crowley hissed excitedly.

Dean gave Sam a smile as they made their way to the far side of the pool.

“You ever had an angel before, little brother?” Dean whispered.

Sam shook his head.  “No.  I hear they only pretend not to like it.”

Dean snickered.  “Like or not, they are all going to have some demon in them today.”

Sam laughed and then clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Shut up!” Blonde Meg hissed.

They used hand signals to send a message around the circle so they would all know when everyone was in place.  He could hear the angels still giggling and splashing.  He thought he detected the faint notes of a harp being played.  Dean wondered what the signal would be for them to leap out and reveal themselves.

“Now!” Crowley cried out.

Dean was a bit startled by the command himself, so he was a bit late jumping out of the bushes.  But their plan had worked.  They had the angels surrounded and the celestial beings were utterly shocked, their hands and wings trying to shield their bodies.

“Hello, lovelies,” Crowley said.  “We have you surrounded and—”

Crowley broke off, startled and astonished, as the angels squealed and screamed and shrieked and darted out of the pool in all directions.  They grabbed their robes and did go through the gap made by the demons, but one or two barreled through the Masters sisters who were making up the ends of the gaps.  The demons stared at each other, shocked for a moment as the angelic squealing started fading.

“After them!” Lilith shouted.

The demons took off after the herd.

“Winchester,” Crowley said, putting a hand to Dean’s chest.  “Go that way.  There’s a straggler.”

Dean’s jaw dropped.  “You’re sending me after the straggler?  I’m not even the youngest by half!”

“No, but you are by far the least of us.  Do not disobey.”

Crowley took off after the group of whooping and cheering demons as they chased after their prey.  Dean clenched his teeth but knew he was already in deep enough shit with Alistair that he couldn’t have Crowley reporting back that he had disobeyed orders.  He took off in the direction Crowley had pointed, using his tail for balance as he ran bent forward so that he could scent the air.

After about fifty yards he came across a blue sash snagged on a honeysuckle bush.  He took the silky material in his hand and brought it to his nose.  He breathed deeply.  There was the ever present bite of ozone all angels carried with them, but this one also smelled of oceans, clouds, and loneliness.  Dean grinned and clenched the cloth in his hand as he took off running again.  This might be a good thing.  If he managed to wrangle an angel all by himself, he’d be a hero.

He came across the angel in a clearing of purple heather.  He was pressed against a tree, panting, just like a good damsel in distress.  His white robe had fallen off one shoulder and his slender leg was exposed where it gaped open without the sash.

“Hey, pretty,” Dean said, flashing his eyes black.  “Lose something?”

The angel’s head snapped up in alarm, his brilliant blue eyes trained on the sash dangling from Dean’s fingers.  Then he scowled, his eyes narrowing into slits.

“Give that back.”

Dean was a little surprised by the gruff voice.  Surely he wouldn’t be getting any solos in the angelic choir.  He allowed his eyes to flash green again and took a couple of steps into the clearing, holding the sash in his outstretched hand.

“You want it back?” Dean shrugged.  “Come get it.”

The angel hesitated and then took a couple of tentative steps away from the tree.  Dean’s grin widened as he watched the heavenly creature try to maintain his modesty by holding the robe closed, but all it accomplished was making him look like some kind of tempting seductress.  Dean wiggled his fingers making the sash shimmy and glimmer in the sunlight.  The angel took another cautious step forward.

Dean felt his stomach twist with anticipation.  He licked his lips and just barely refrained from palming the forming erection between his legs.  He’d never had an angel before, but he’d heard the stories.  How angels had zero gag reflex, how their pussies felt, smelled, and tasted like warm pie.  Even the male ones.  Dean’s fingers clenched around the sash as his arousal made it almost impossible to hold still.

“Stop that!” the angel suddenly said.  “You’ll wrinkle it.”

“Oh, no!  Heaven forbid!  Wrinkles!”

Dean sniggered and wadded the sash up in his hands

“I said stop that!” the angel shouted and suddenly sparks flew from his fingers.

Dean yelped and released the sash so he could suck on his tingling fingers.  Dean realized now the angel must be very young.  Perhaps his own age or even younger.  A full grown angel could have singed all the hair off his body and left him a twitching heap on the ground.  Dean shook his hand to dispel the unpleasant tingling.  He glared at the angel.

“You tried to smite me!”

“N-not s-smite.  Just…”

The demon leapt forward and shoved the angel backwards.  He gasped and fell back on his ass in the heather blossoms, wings fluffing up into the air.  Dean reached out and ripped a silver feather from the shining white mass.  The wing spasmed.

“Ow!  You brute!”

The angel reached around Dean and yanked on his tail.  The demon yowled and jumped onto the angel.  They tussled around in the heather, pulling hair and pinching arms.

“You foul beast!” the angel grunted when he got an elbow to the gut.  “You look like a miscreant and you smell of sulfur!”

“I’m taking that as a compliment you ozone smelling cry baby.”

“I am not a cry baby!” the angel cried.

“Hit a nerve did I?” Dean laughed as he rolled on top of the angel, pinning his wrists to the ground.  “Little baby always get picked on?”

The angel squirmed under him and shouted with indignation.  Dean just giggled and enjoyed the feel of the angel’s hips rolling between his legs.

“Oh, just like that, baby,” Dean taunted.  He moved a hand to pull at the edge of the angel’s robe, revealing more smooth skin and a cute, pert nipple.  “Show me how you like it.  I’ll spread you like warm butter and—”

Dean cut off, completely startled by the open handed slap that had stung his face.  He put a hand to his smarting cheek and looked down incredulously at the angel.

“Did you just… _slap_ me?”

“Well!  Why does your type always have to make everything so…vulgar?”

“Um…because we’re demons?”

“So?  I know ‘corruption’ is your thing,” he said with a mocking tone and using air quotes, “but resorting to... _that_...just seems so cheap.  So _human_.”

Dean frowned at the insulting comparison.  “Human, huh?  Why does your type always act like they don’t feel anything like that at all?”

Dean sat himself fully in the angel’s lap and rolled his hips.  The angel’s eyes widened.

“Why do you act like…it doesn’t affect you at all?”

Dean spread his hand over the angel’s chest and let his thumb flick gently over a nipple that rapidly hardened to a tight bud.  The angel’s face remained stoic, but his wings were quivering.  Dean smiled and circled his hips down hard, driving his ass onto what he knew was a forming erection.

“Not so bad, huh?”

“N-no, it’s—it’s terrible.  Get off me.”

His wings jerked and his feathers ruffled.  Dean grinned and leaned forward, sliding his fingers into the silky, soft feathers.  The angel gasped and arched his back—driving his now very hard member against Dean’s ass.

“Yeah, angel,” Dean groaned.  “I knew you had in you.  Gonna have me in you soon, too,” he chuckled.  “Can’t wait to taste that cherry pie between your legs.”

The angel opened his eyes, the fog of lust clearing slightly.  “I don’t have any pastries between my legs, demon.”

Dean groaned softly in annoyance.  “Don’t be so literal.  I’m talking about your sweet, wet pussy.”

“I’m a male angel.  I don’t have a…a… _pussy_ ,” he whispered like he was afraid to say the word out loud.  And wasn’t that cute.

“No?”

Dean slid back and parted the robe.  The angel squeaked and tried to draw the garment closed again, but Dean got his hands on his thighs and pushed them apart.  The angel made a soft mewling sound as he was exposed to the demon and his stiff cock waved at them both.

“What’s this then?” Dean asked, slipping a hand between the angel’s legs.  He reached behind his balls, his fingers immediately becoming slippery with the warm, sweet-smelling slick spilling out of the angel’s hole.

The angel writhed against him, panting in shock.  “I don’t know!  I don’t—oh.  Do that again!”

The demon grinned and obliged, rubbing his fingers over the slick pucker of muscle.  He probed the entrance with his thumb.

“Oh, oh!  That’s, that’s—!”

“That’s right, angel cakes.  That’s your pussy.  And I’m gonna eat me some.”

Dean settled between the angel’s legs, spreading them wide and lifting his hips.  He dipped his head down and swiped his tongue over the glistening trail of slick running over his balls.  The angel yelped and twisted violently in his grasp, but Dean only held on tighter.  He dove in with gusto as the sweet tang of the angel hit his tongue.  He buried his face between his legs and lapped and licked and laved at his hole, gulping down all the slick that poured of his cute little angel.  The angel’s squealing got louder—and then suddenly he went rigid and Dean felt something warm land on his back.

He sat up and looked down at the angel—completely sated with orgasm, eyes glassy and unseeing.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean asked with annoyance.  “I didn’t even get to fuck you!”

“Go ahead,” the angel purred.  “Who’s stopping you?” he murmured pleasantly.  He reached out and gave the demon’s tail a gentle tug.  Dean hissed and moved his hand to his groin, cupping his throbbing erection.  The angel continued to pull on his tail in a hard, massaging motion and the demon let out a noise of surprise and fell forward to one hand as he came in his pants.

“Shit.”

The angel kept pulling on his tail.

“Stop, stop!  I can’t!”

“Feels good, little demon?  We angels heard your tails are like sweet lollipops.  Taste good too.”

Dean shivered at the thought of those lips sucking on his tail.  He gave the angel a heated look and flicked his tail forward, the thick, pyramidal tip hovering over his lips.

“Go ahead.”

The angel raised his head and licked at the tail tentatively.  Then he moaned and grabbed onto it, sucking the head into his mouth.  Dean cried out and bucked his hips forward, falling onto the angel and tangling their thighs.  They rubbed their groins together and Dean slid his fingers in the feathers of the angel’s wings again.  The angel let out a wild sound that was muffled by the tail in his mouth.  He sucked harder and the demon gripped the wings tighter.  Their hips worked frantically, movements eased by the angel’s slick between his thighs.  They both came again at the same time, pushing the other away from their oversensitive appendages and screaming loud enough for anyone in the Fae world to hear them.  Then they fell into a panting, sated mess, hidden in the tall heather.

When he caught his breath Dean sat up, bracing himself on the ground with one hand.  His face was very close to the angel, and he looked at his plump, pink lips and wanted to kiss him.  But that wasn’t a very demon-y thing to do.  He was about to pull away when the angel caught him behind the neck and pulled him down for a kiss anyway.  It was gentle and a little clumsy, but nice.  Not the way a demon should kiss at all.  He pulled back and looked at the smiling angel.  He scowled.

“Why are you smiling?”

The angel shrugged.  “What’s your name?”

Dean’s mouth opened, a scathing insult on the tip of his tongue, but those blue eyes just looked at him like they were seeing _him_ —and not what he was _supposed_ to be.

“D-Dean.  M’name’s Dean.”

“Dean.  Hello.  My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel.  Weird fuckin’ name.”

Castiel pinched his arm.  “Be nice.”

“Be nice?” Dean snorted.  He rolled off the angel and lay on his side, head propped up with his hand.  “I’m a demon, Cas.  We don’t _do_ nice.”

“I don’t know.  I think what we just did was nice.”

“That wasn’t—”  Dean felt himself blush and couldn’t believe it.  Demons didn’t _blush_.

Castiel put one hand underneath his head and reached up with the other to brush the backs of his fingers over the demon’s cheek.

“Why do you terrorize humans?”

Dean frowned and shrugged.  “We just do.”

“Do you like doing it?”

Dean knew what _should_ be the answer to that question, but he deflected with, “Why do you like to judge and punish humans?”

The angel sighed.  “I don’t.  I like humans.  I like their world.  It’s interesting.  And creative.”

Dean nodded, suddenly excited.  “I know, right?  They have music and food and they make rules but they know when to break them!”

The angel smiled beatifically at him.  “Your eyes are so pretty right now.  All bright and green.”

Dean scowled.  “Shut up.”

Castiel reached up with a hand and fondled one of Dean’s horns…and that totally did not feel good at all.

“Can you hide these?”

“Huh?”

“Are you able to hide your horns?  And your tail?”

“Well, yeah, it’s how we walk amongst the humans to corrupt them.”

“Hmm.”

“Why?  What are you thinking?”

“I can hide my wings.”

“You can?”

“Yes.  So, we can both pass for human.”

Dean let out a small disbelieving laugh.  “Are you really suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

The angel snatched his hand back and looked self-conscious.  “I’m not suggesting anything.”

“Oh.”  Dean leaned close and gave a light flick of his tongue across the angel’s lips.  “That’s a shame.  Because if you had suggested something…I might be on board with it.”

Castiel relaxed a little and parted his lips.  “Well, if you’re on board with it…I might be suggesting it.”

The demon smiled, and then kissed his angel.

“Sounds like we got ourselves a pretty wishy-washy plan.”

Castiel laughed.  “Still better than any angelic plans my superiors had for me.”

“Same here.”

Castiel reached out for Dean’s hand and they threaded their fingers together, which Dean thought was totally sappy and not cute at all.

“So, what, we’re just going to go to the human world, and do what?” Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged.  “We’ll make it up as we go.”

~~~

“Hurry up, Dean, or we’ll be late,” Castiel said impatiently as he tapped a foot in the doorway.

“We got plenty of time.  Relax.”  He created a couple more artful spikes with his hair and then turned to face Castiel.  “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Really?” Castiel asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“What?” Dean asked defensively.

“Forgetting something?” Castiel asked as he reached behind Dean and grabbed his tail.  He waggled the point in front of Dean’s face.

Dean grumbled and concentrated on storing his tail away in the ether.

“It’s your fault,” he muttered.  “Always want it out to play with it.”

“ _I_ want it out?” Castiel laughed and locked their apartment door behind them.  “First thing I see when I get home at night is your tail in my face and you rubbing against my leg like a cat in heat.”

“Fuck you, birdbrain.  Why don’t you explain to me why our bedroom is constantly littered with feathers?”

Castiel laughed and linked his arm with Dean’s.  He leaned against him as they stepped onto the elevator.

“Because I come harder when you use your grip on my wings to fuck me from behind,” he whispered into his ear.

Dean shivered.  “Ca~~s,” he whined softly.  “Not now.”

The two of them managed to behave themselves as they made their way to the café a few blocks from their building.  They arrived ten minutes early because Castiel had told Dean they were scheduled to meet thirty minutes before the actual time.  The angel smiled as he sipped his Earl Grey and listened to Dean talk about the new LP he’d found in a thrift store.  He always looked so cute when he got excited about his music.  Then he glanced over Dean’s shoulder.

“Oh!  There they are!”

Dean turned to look.

Walking down the street was a tall gangly kid and short man with a lot of swagger.  Dean’s face broke into a grin.  He hopped out of his chair and started for the pair.

“Sammy!” he called out.

Castiel followed behind more sedately and smiled at his big brother when he reached him, tuning out the excited shouts of his demon lover and his sibling.

“Hey, kiddo,” Gabriel said, giving his hair a good tousle.  “Looks like going human has treated you well.”

Castiel smiled and glanced at Dean.  The demon paused in giving his brother a noogie and smiled back at him.

“We’ve done alright for ourselves,” Castiel agreed.

 

**2\.  Mortal Enemies: Destiel – Mature (Explicit?)**

 

_Warnings: angry sex; barebacking; kind of cracky; weird dialogue; longish; mild violence_

 

Sam Winchester was a good kid.  He got excellent grades and was the politest fourteen year old boy anyone had ever met.  He was considerate and kind and had a sense of humor and a well-developed sense of justice.  He was a good kid.  Except when his father told him “no.”  Then he became ornery and rebellious and disgruntled that the often absent man tried to impose his will on Sam, his brother, and mother.  The man had no right to control them, but he already had their lives mapped out for them.  Sam and Dean were going to take over the family business as town Lawmen, whether they wanted to or not.  John and Mary Winchester’s places as representatives on the town Council made them think their children could never do or be anything else.

That philosophy was shared by all the Council members—who always sat in family pairs whether by marriage or blood.  The Winchesters represented Justice, the Harvelles oversaw Production, the Crowleys managed Trade, the Lafittes organized Defense, and the Engels were the Governors.  Perhaps that was how the feud between the Winchesters and the Engels started—politicians often clashed with law enforcers.  It seemed that a lot of arguments stemmed from John claiming the Engels were corrupt and took bribes left and right, but mostly Winchesters were taught that Engels were just depraved and obnoxious and their absolute mortal enemies.

That was why Sam was standing outside the gates to the Engel manner in a group of his friends, dressed all in black, wearing a black bandanna to hide his hair, and a silver mask covering the upper portion of his face.  Everyone was dressed the same, even the girls.  The Engels’ masquerade ball was legendary, but nary had a Winchester ever set foot within the gated estate.  Sam was there because he knew his father would be furious when he found out.  He grinned as he was pulled inside by a girl about his age.  He didn’t recognize her, and only knew she was a girl based on the curve of her hips underneath her black shirt.  He laughed and followed her inside—the bass of the sound system throbbing deep in his chest.  Tonight was going to be so much fun.

 

Dean Winchester was a good soldier.  He followed orders and played by the rules—when the rules needed to be followed.  He certainly wasn’t a saint, but it was because he knew which orders needed to be followed and which rules could be bent without breaking them.  It made him popular among his peers in the Lawmen, and well-liked by his superiors.  Being the son of the Lawmen Chief wasn’t a strike against him either.

He had a natural talent for objectivity—when it didn’t involve his own family of course—and his opinion on matters of contention was often sought and accepted for resolutions.  He was able to calmly but firmly insert himself into most any kind of family feud or friendly brawl and diffuse the situation without violence.  Both parties usually left afterwards feeling somewhat unhappy with the result, but that just meant it had been fair.  Even though he was just one and twenty, he was a well-respected man about town.

He could keep a cool head no matter the situation—so long as it didn’t involve his family.  Or the Engels.  Everyone knew that if they had a dispute with an Engel, Dean or any other Winchester was the last person to call.  Or the first if they wanted to screw over the Engels and risk the wrath of possibly the most powerful family in the city.  Dean knew the hatred was irrational—he didn’t even know why the Winchesters and Engels hated each other so much—but he was loyal so he accepted his father’s say on the matter.  And that was why he was tying a black bandana over his head and pulling a silver mask over his eyes and nose—so that he could sneak into the Engel’s heavily guarded estate and get his uppity, troublesome brother back before anyone realized a Winchester—two Winchesters—had crashed the party of the year.

 

Hannah Engel was a good girl.  She was demure and polite and new all her lessons and spoke Enochian better than anyone but her grandmother, who had spoken it as a first language.  She always obeyed her parents—except when she just couldn’t.  She always held her tongue—except when something just slipped out.  She was always a picture of decorum—except when she was ticked off and someone really had it coming.  She was the darling of her family without a doubt; doted on by the large family of siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles that lived on the massive Engel estate.  That is when she wasn’t being scolded for scraping her knees or tearing her dress by playing with the servants’ kids after lessons.

All of that had to stop though because she had had her coming out just in time for her family’s annual masquerade ball.  Otherwise she would have had to spend another year watching from the balconies with the other children until the nannies ushered them away for bedtime.  She was fourteen this year though, and had been presented at Joanna Beth Harvelle’s Yod Het Celebration—eighteen years being the mark of young adulthood for both girls and boys—and was now officially able to attend parties and go on outings.  With a chaperone accompanying her, of course.  She wouldn’t be free of her chaperone until she was Jo’s age.

However, at her family’s own party in her own house—she was given about as free a reign as she was expected to get.  She found a few of her friends from school, though several of the girls she didn’t recognize because of the masks.  It’s possible they were the less than popular girls taking the opportunity to live a little like the popular girls.  Hannah didn’t mind.  In fact she thought it was great.  That’s what was so wonderful about these masquerade balls: everyone was equal.  There were no Houses or Council favorites.  Nobody was more important than anyone else because of the name they happened to be born to.  It was always a wonderful night, which usually lasted well into the early morning hours.  Her older cousins and siblings had a tradition of welcoming the sunrise by removing their masks.  She hoped to join them if she didn’t fall asleep by midnight.

 

Castiel Engel was a problem child.  Always had been.  His desire to be good and obedient was always trumped by his curiosity and compassion.  It had been tolerated in his youth, but after his Yod Het, greater expectations had been placed on his shoulders.  He’d struggled with his nature and his family’s expectations in the two year interim, but had found that by joining the Engel family’s personal guard that he had a place where he could fit in.  He could attend all family functions, as was befitting his station, but he was never obligated to have to interact with anybody.  The social graces that came so easily to his brothers and sisters and cousins often eluded him.  He and Uncle Marv were the only two Engels who couldn’t hold a conversation for two minutes without making other people feel awkward or uncomfortable.

He had found his stride in the guard though, easily commanding the respect of the unit he’d been assigned even though in some cases he was half his subordinates’ ages.  He was a natural born tactician and knew how to lead without micromanaging.  It also helped that for the most part the Engel family lived a fairly sheltered life due the protection of the town itself, but they were often targets of disgruntled citizens and dissenters.  And there were always the Winchesters to look out for.  Always causing mischief and in general trying to undermine the Engel’s authority with false charges and embarrassing “random” security checks when their assets went in and out of the town walls.  That technically wasn’t even the Winchesters’ purview—the Lafittes were responsible for the town’s defense.  Clearly it was harassment, but their grievances were usually denied when brought before the tribunes at the monthly Council.

Castiel found solace in his position as a family guard, but he couldn’t deny he loved the masquerade ball—the one night of the year he could forget who he was because everyone around him didn’t know to treat him like he was “that oddball Castiel.”  He suddenly gained confidence and became downright charming when he was given anonymity.  It was by far the best night of the year for his romantic exploits.  Not that there was much romance on masquerade night—it was mostly about sex.  And could be quite dangerous if one really couldn’t tell who they were fooling around with in the dark corners of the third floor balcony—Castiel was fairly certain he’d made out with a second cousin the year before.  But what were second cousins for if not to be kissing cousins?

 

Castiel’s night of merrymaking was cut short unfortunately when his aunt found him and twisted a lace handkerchief in her hand as she told him how worried she was for her youngest daughter, Hannah.  She had disappeared with a group of children over an hour ago and hadn’t been seen since.  Castiel patted his aunt’s hands and promised to find the girl even though he was certain she was just out in the gardens or nicking sweets from the dessert table before it had been put out for the other guests.

Castiel made his way over to the small band of men and women who were still technically on active guard duty.  After a few more drinks, everyone in the Family Guard would be too blitzed to actually serve their purpose.  The real security for the night was the hired third party guards who walked the perimeter of the grounds.  They wouldn’t be let anywhere near the booze.

“Inias, Muriel, Hester.  How goes the evening so far?”

“Not too bad,” Inias said.  “The margaritas are excellent.”

Castiel smiled.  “Glad to hear it.  So, Auntie Naomi is concerned that Hannah has gone missing.”

“How could you even tell in this crowd?” Muriel asked as she looked out at the mass of writhing bodies in the large banquet hall.  Above them several stories worth of balconies were also brightly lit and crowded as spectators took a breather and watched the goings on below.  All except the third balcony which was dark and “off limits.”

“You know how Auntie likes to keep tabs on everyone and everything,” Hester mumbled.  “I’m surprised she doesn’t have a GPS device disguised as a piece of jewelry on her.”

“Have you tried the White Purgatories?” Inias asked.  “Superb.”

Castiel tried not to roll his eyes, but he didn’t think he was successful.

“You all have been supremely helpful.  I’m to go look for her.  Give it another thirty minutes of looking like you’re working, and then off you go.”

There was a general chorus of pleased noises as he turned and walked away.  He walked around the raised perimeter of the large ballroom, and then slid his fingers down the marble slab masquerading as a railing as he descended the monolithic stone steps that led from the grand foyer down onto the main floor.  His eyes were scanning the crowd—but he wasn’t sure what about his cousin he’d be able to discern from the scores of identically dressed bodies mixed in with the colorful explosions of dresses and suits worn by those who deemed themselves too old for such games.

Castiel’s hand registered it immediately when the cold chill of marble gave way to something warm and yielding.  Dean turned his head when he felt a hand land on top of his.  He smiled at the man with bright blue eyes who was being quite forward.  Then he turned his smile into a smirk and dropped his eyes to his hand.  Castiel noticed the captivating green eyes of a back-clad masquerader drop to their hands—where his was still covering the stranger’s.  He snatched his hand back.

“Apologies,” Castiel said, and then cleared his throat.

“None needed,” Dean replied.  He allowed his eyes to sweep over the trim figure in front of him.  He spent more time seeking pleasure in the company of women, but every now and then an exception did come along.  The man looked nervous, even with the benefit of the mask covering most of his features, so Dean decided to help him relax.  He took the stranger’s hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“I should be the one apologizing, my dear sir.  To allow something so beautiful and perfect to be defiled by a hand as rough as mine is the real crime.”  He kissed the man’s knuckles, enjoying the way his lips parted and his eyes darkened.

Castiel was caught off guard, for just a moment, and then he laughed and pulled his hand free.  He flicked his finger against the hard plastic covering the man’s forehead and he started back, surprised by his sudden loss of control.

“I don’t know you, _sir_ , but I can feel by the calluses on your hand that you’re every bit as rough as I am and flowery language is the last thing either of us desires.”

Dean grinned.  “So, you’re more of ‘damn, I’d like to bend you in half and fill you with my come up against a wall’ kind of a guy.”

Castiel bit his lip to keep from grinning.  He lost the battle when the man smiled with his too pretty lips and his eyes glinted with the promise that he wasn’t just teasing Castiel with his words.

“I said I didn’t desire flowery, not that I wanted vulgar.”

Dean laughed and stepped up onto the same stair as his quarry.  He was pleased to find that he had a couple of inches on the guy not only in height but in breadth too.  Castiel tried to discreetly suck in a breath as the stranger stepped right into his space and filled his vision.  The man’s shirt was almost too tight, but it wasn’t doing him any harm, only accentuating how capable he was of carrying through with his claim that he could take Castiel up against a wall.  What he wouldn’t give for a wall at that moment.

“Sir,” Castiel began, “there’s nothing I would like more than to continue this discussion in one of the more secluded areas of the topiary garden on the east lawn—believe me, _nothing more_ —but I’ve been charged with finding an errant cousin.”

Dean licked his lips when the man emphasized the “nothing more” and smiled at his good fortune when he heard the man’s reason for declining his advances.

“Then we have found each other for more than one reason, _sir_.  I’m also in search of a missing family member, and it seems that you know something of the grounds.”

“A bit,” Castiel admittedly wryly.

“Perfect.  Then you know of the places a fourteen year old boy might sneak off to?”

“Ah, and I’m looking for a fourteen year old girl.  They would probably find the same bits of trouble.”

“No doubt.  Where should we try first…?” Dean trailed off, waiting for the man to supply a name.

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, but then hesitated.  He didn’t recognize the man at all, but that didn’t mean the man wouldn’t recognize him.  He might get self-conscious or utterly turned off if he knew he was dealing with the awkward and often (unfairly) described as grumpy Castiel Engel.  He’d hesitated too long.  It was growing awkward already.

“Steve,” he blurted out.

“Steve?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow, recognizing the alias for what it was.  He had his own reasons for hiding his identity; he certainly wasn’t going to question “Steve’s” reasons for doing so.  “It’s a pleasure, Steve,” he said leaning forward and greeting him formally and traditionally with a kiss on each cheek.  Then he put his lips by his ear.  “You can call me, D.”

Castiel shivered when the man’s warm breath ghosted over his ear.  He turned to face him and they were about three seconds away from desperately tongue fucking their way to the closest flat surface.  He stepped down, putting space between them and looked over his shoulder.

“This way, D.  The fastest way to the gardens is through the east wing.”

~~~

Two hours later, Dean laughed as he skidded around a corner, Steve’s hand in one hand, a stolen apple tart in the other.  Castiel realized he was more giggling than laughing as his shoes slid on the smooth marble floors of the hallways and he crashed into D’s back, making them both careen into a wall.  They paused for a moment, catching their breath.  Then they heard the angry shouts of two kitchen assistants echoing off the cavernous halls as they gained ground on them.

“Go, go,” Castiel whispered and shoved D toward a hallway lined with three elevators.  They slipped onto the middle one just as the doors were shutting, nearly taking out the couple that had been exiting.  He hit the buttons for all the floors except the second level.

“What’d you do that for?” Dean asked, confused by Steve’s decision to play the stereotypical childish prank when there was nobody in the elevator but them.

“Because if they go into the elevator bank and watch to see what floor we stop on, they might be confused if it just keeps going.”

“Hmm,” Dean murmured because he was taking a bite of his sixth apple tart.

They had spent the last two hours searching the grounds of the Engel estate (which Dean was not going to admit was gorgeous), looking in every location a couple of kids might go to look for some fun or privacy.  Along the way they’d had pretty good sport spying on and gossiping about all the other party goers they happened upon.  Particularly scandalous was the matriarch of the Harvelle family, dressed in a beautiful gold gown, being felt up by a black-clad masquerader (who was possibly her daughter’s age) behind the unicorn topiary.  They’d been thrilled for the woman.  If anyone needed a little anonymous fun on Masquerade Night—it was certainly her.

Along the way they’d frightened several children who vaguely reminded them of their missing charges, stolen seventeen desserts, laughed at each other’s stupid jokes, felt each other up four times without actually kissing, and even shared one heartfelt moment that left them both wanting to unmask the other so that that they wouldn’t lose each other at the end of the night—and completely unaware that the feeling was mutual.

The elevator stopped on the third floor and Dean stepped off, pulling Steve behind him.

Castiel’s heart lurched to his throat and his stomach dropped to his feet.  He felt utterly nauseated—but in a good way.

“W-why are we getting off here?” Castiel asked, embarrassed by the breathiness of his voice.

“Well, we haven’t looked here yet.  They are fourteen.  That’s old enough to…you know…”

Castiel nodded, but his nervousness was tamped down by the completely unpleasant thought of some trampy boy or girl molesting his sweet cousin.

“You know _what_?” Castiel asked, feigning ignorance in order to distract himself from thoughts of his cousin and to tease D.

Dean smiled when he heard Steve’s question.  He turned and walked backwards, leading him by the hand through the dim corridors that despite large columns—so big around that two grown men wouldn’t be able to touch each other’s hands if they reached around it—and heavy drapery were still lit by the bright lights of the ballroom.

“I could explain it to you, or I could show you…” Dean offered the man a choice, pulling him past one pillar that already had a couple occupying the dark corner created by its massive curve.

Castiel quickened his pace to step right into Dean’s space and pushed him up against the one stark black marble pillar in the row of gleaming white stone.  He kept moving until he pressed against D from chest to knees.  He leaned close and tilted his head, bringing their lips together in the mockery of a kiss.

“Show me,” he whispered.

Castiel gasped in real shock as he was picked up around the waist and shoved back into the corner of the balcony and the pillar.  D’s lips were already on his and a knee forced between his thighs.  Dean reached a hand around and grabbed one firm ass cheek in his hand—getting the desired result of Steve’s mouth falling open.  He thrust his tongue into his hot mouth, tasting honey from the sweet croquette he’d last eaten.  He rolled his hips, over and over, encouraging the man to ride his leg.  Castiel could feel that he was hard against D’s thigh.  He could feel that he was dizzy with the sudden rush of blood through his body as D sucked on his tongue.  He could hear himself making the most pitiful, needy whimpers he’d ever made in his life.  Dean dug his fingers into Steve’s arms as he grinded him into the pillar.

“So good.  So sweet.”  Dean slipped his tongue into his new friend’s mouth again.  “Steve…so good…”

“Mm…not Steve,” Castiel murmured around D’s kisses.  He didn’t want to hear him saying another man’s name.  “My name—”

“Doesn’t matter, baby.  Doesn’t matter.”  Dean moved his hands to the man’s head, fingers stopped from tangling with his hair because of the bandanna.  It didn’t stop him from holding the man in place as he rutted harder.

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and felt himself teeter on the brink of orgasm.  The realization that he was about to come in his pants after barely two minutes of dry humping was enough to calm his mind.  At least a little.  He tore his mouth away from D’s biting kisses.

“D…wait.  We…we can’t.  We have to find…my cousin.  Anh!  Ah!  And your…oh, fuck, your brother.”

“Then we should look for them,” Dean growled.

He pulled away from the man and took a moment to gloat at the wild, feverish look in his eyes and his red, swollen lips.  Then he turned him forcibly by the shoulder and pushed him against the wide railing that overlooked the ballroom floor.  A trendy pop song easily reached their ears from the speakers mounted on the level below them, and Dean pushed the man forward so that he was braced against the wide, stomach-high slab of marble that separated them from a three story fall.  He kicked the man’s feet apart and dragged his lower lip through his teeth in anticipation when he heard the man’s sharp intake of breath.  Castiel felt D lean against his back, his hands reaching around to unzip his fly as he kissed the nape of his neck.  He shivered, uncertain if this was actually happening.  Was D seriously going to fuck him against the railing, where they were now completely visible to anyone who just happened to look up?  Or over for that matter.

Dean shoved his partner’s pants and underwear down to his thighs in one movement.  Castiel gasped and dug his blunt nails into the unrelenting marble.  He should stop this.  He heard the sound of D’s zipper being pulled down slowly.  He heard his harsh breathing.  Castiel was paralyzed with fear for a moment that he was just going to fuck him dry.  Then he felt the velvety glide of a hot, hard cock sliding between his thighs.  D’s cockhead hit the back of his balls.  Castiel groaned and squeezed his thighs together.

Dean wrapped his arms around the man’s chest and pulled him back, stifling his own groan as he smeared pre-come on those silky thighs.  He thumbed the man’s nipples erect through his thin dress shirt and kissed and licked and bit the spot behind his ear, reveling in the way he writhed and fought futilely against the mounting pleasure in his body.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” Dean repeated, unable to let go of the thought of exactly how good he felt—how perfectly they fit together.  “You be a good boy and look down.  Do your job and look for our missing troublemakers.”

Castiel was blushing furiously.  Kinky sex wasn’t really something that embarrassed him, but he’d never done so much in such a public setting before.  He could see people below them.  They weren’t so far that he couldn’t recognize faces.  He saw a couple members of his unit.  He saw some cousins.  He spotted his Aunt Naomi talking to Fergus Crowley.  He closed his eyes and dropped his head back on D’s shoulder.  His cock bounced in front of him with each gentle thrust of D’s cock between his legs.

Dean could feel himself losing his mind.  His hands roamed all over the man’s body, his teeth had claimed his earlobe, his cock was slipping wet and sticky between the sweetest thighs Dean had ever have the pleasure of being between.  And all he could think about was that he wanted—needed—more.  He couldn’t wait to get this man somewhere he could spread him out, open him up, and fuck into him nice and deep.

“Damn, baby.  _Angel_.  Gonna fuck you so good after we find those stupid kids.  Drop them off where they belong, and then I’m going to take you home and dive in balls deep.”

“Yes, yes,” Castiel panted, his hand stripping his cock in a relentless motion that had nothing to do with the maddeningly slow rhythm D was still playing at.  “Promise me, D.  Promise me you’ll fuck me full.”

Dean put both hands to the pleading man’s hips and pulled him back hard.  Castiel cried out as he finally got the roughness he was looking for.

“Stuffed full, baby,” Dean promised as he bent his partner at the waist.

Castiel leaned against the railing, the stone cooling his heated cheek as D draped himself over his back and rutted between his legs like an animal.

“I promise.  I’ll fill you with my cock, and then I’ll fill you with my seed.”

Castiel’s eyes flew open at his words.  D’s thrusts were pushing his cock into the tight grip of his fist, pushing him so close to the edge of orgasm he almost didn’t have enough sense to be floored by D’s words.

“Do you mean it?” Castiel asked.  “You’d want to…you’d want to…without a…”

Dean realized what he allowed to slip out of his mouth.  Of course he’d been fantasizing about what it would be like to bury himself bare inside this sweet ass—but he would never actually do it.  To come inside another person—it was unheard of except between married couples.  In a sense, he’d just proposed to a man whose name he didn’t even know.

Dean kept up his rhythm and moved his hand down to push the man’s out of the way so he could stroke his cock for him.

“Would you want me to?” Dean asked, a little breathless.

“Oh, fuck,” Castiel moaned as he felt himself teetering on the edge.  He was about to come and he was about to say something stupid.  “Yes, yes.  Tonight.  Take me home and come in me.  I want it.”

Dean let out a string of swear words as he suddenly climaxed.  He continued to rut between the man’s legs until his thighs were coated in his spend.  He slowed minutely and only realized his partner had also come when he felt him trying to stop his hand from pulling on his spent, oversensitive cock.  Dean slumped against his back.

“Baby…I’ve never…”

He trailed off, not sure how to finish that thought.

“Me neither,” Castiel said.  He was certain that their little exchange could be—and would be—easily dismissed as mid-coitus dirty talk.  They certainly weren’t bound by any of their careless declarations.  Castiel’s family would object to any match they hadn’t made themselves anyway.  Though he supposed it couldn’t hurt to at least put forth D’s name as a candidate.  Whoever the hell he really was.

They’d done a half-assed job of getting themselves cleaned up and their clothes put back in place.  Castiel had just worked up enough to courage to ask for D’s identity when the man suddenly leaned over the wide expanse of the railing and pointed down at the ballroom floor.

“There!  That’s him.  I’d know that shitstick’s lanky ass anywhere.”

Castiel leaned over to look where D was pointing.  He saw a girl and boy, both dressed in masquerade black, stepping onto the moon roof elevator.  If the boy belonged to D, then the girl had to be an Engel.  There was a good chance that was Hannah.

“I think he’s with the one I’m looking for,” Castiel said and thumped D’s arm with the back of his hand.  “Let’s go!”

D followed after Castiel as he ran back for the elevators.  He bypassed them and started taking the stairs down.

“Hey, where are you going?” Dean asked.  “They went up!”

“I know, but they used the moon roof elevator.”

Dean puffed behind—hell, “Steve” was “Baby” now—and had to turn his body sideways to push through the crowds on the lower level in order to keep up with him.  They arrived at a large, white tube that rose from the floor to the ceiling—nearly twenty stories up.  Dean had assumed it was just decoration.  Then Baby produced a card and waved it in front of an electronic lock.  A previously invisible door slid open and Dean stepped into the small space behind Baby and blanched when the door closed behind them and the floor started moving up.  It was horrifying really.  They weren’t in an elevator car being pulled up, the floor was literally being pushed up while the walls remained stationary.  If Dean were a religious man he’d be praying about now.

“We have two of these elevators.  One at either end of the hall.  They only go from the main level to the roof.  It really affords a great view.  And only members of the Engel family have a cardkey for it, so that had to be the person I was looking for with your brother.”

Dean gave him a nervous smile as his stomach clung to his legs somewhere by his ankles as the floor rose steadily, though both too slowly and too quickly for his comfort.  That’s why it took a full fifteen seconds for what the man said to sink in.  He looked up at him.

“Only…members of the Engel family have card keys?” he asked.

Castiel smiled a little embarrassedly.  He’d kind of blown his cover.  Though there were dozens of Engels.  Maybe D didn’t know he was the awkward weirdo of the family.  He was about to speak when D reached forward and hooked his thumb under his mask.  He pulled off Castiel’s mask and bandana and let them fall to the floor.

Dean stared—mouth dry, chest tight—at Castiel Engel.  Castiel—the man responsible for moving an Engel property line marker that caused his mentor, Lawman Singer, to be “trespassing,” resulting in his arrest.  The man who had hauled in Sam when he’d tried to stand up for Bobby and consequently got him six months in community service and made him fall behind a year in school resulting in his brilliant brother having to repeat a grade and being looked down on by his peers.  The man, who even if he’d done nothing else to harm his family, was an Engel and therefore an enemy.

Castiel was confused by D’s blatant breach of masquerade etiquette by unmasking him without his permission, but he was unnerved by the barely controlled rage that tightened his lips and darkened his eyes.  Castiel reached up and pushed D’s mask and bandanna off as well.  They made soft plops on the floor when they landed.  Castiel swallowed with difficulty as he stared into the eyes of Dean Winchester—the Lawman who had “accidentally” shot and killed his Uncle Zachariah barely a year ago.  A Winchester.  In the Engel Estate.

They both reached to their hips for the weapons that weren’t there and took a step back though there was no room in the tube to put distance between them.  As he moved, Castiel felt the sticky pull of dried come between his legs.  He flushed with anger and embarrassment as he realized that he’d let a Winchester bend him over and fuck his thighs.

The moon roof elevator reached its destination and the door slid open.  Castiel backed out quickly as Dean lunged for his throat.  He turned at the last moment and grabbed Dean’s shoulder.  He managed to use his momentum to throw him forward to the ground.  Dean caught himself in enough time to turn around and block the punch aimed at his face, but got socked in the gut for his troubles.  Doubled over, he went for Castiel’s knees and they landed on the hard concrete of the roof with pained grunts and hissed curses.  They grappled violently for a moment before a female shouted at them in distress.  It distracted Castiel and he looked up.  Dean punched him in the mouth.  He kicked his leg viciously and it landed in the joint where hip met thigh.  Dean gasped in a short breath and was momentarily stunned into inaction, which was good for Castiel because he needed a moment for his head to stop spinning.

“What are you doing, Dean?” a boy’s voice shouted.

Dean recognized his brother’s voice and looked up.  He and a girl, still wearing their masks, were leaning over them.  Dean got to his feet, absolutely livid and hauled his brother by the arm toward the elevator.  Castiel got to his feet and pulled off Hannah’s mask just to verify it was her.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Castiel shouted at her.

Hannah flinched and her chin quivered as she fought back angry tears.

“Dean, what are you doing here?!” Sam yelled.  “And we can’t go down unless we have the card key!”

Dean stopped running his hands over the smooth walls of the tube, vainly searching for a “down” button.  He looked out at Castiel and his cousin.  Castiel was grinning maliciously.

“Yeah, _D_ ,” he said with a sneer.  “You can’t get down without a card key.  So we’ll wait until we can call for an escort for you and your brother.”

Dean clenched his teeth together.  He knew they wouldn’t be escorted off the premises.  They’d be escorted to holding cells.  Sam might make it out eventually, but Dean would probably wind up dead in some “terrible accident.”

“Or, you can always take the fast way down,” Castiel said, nodding his head toward the edge of the roof.

“Castiel!” Hannah shouted.  “What is going on?  Who is that man and why are you both acting like total jerks!”

“Hannah,” Castiel said, turning on his cousin.  “The boy you’ve been spending time with is Sam Winchester.  Youngest son of the Winchester Lawmen and your greatest enemy!  And that man—his brother—Dean Winchester—he’s the one who killed your father!”

Hannah gasped and her eyes went wide.  Sam looked stricken now and Dean—for just a moment—had winced with guilt at Hannah’s horrified expression.  Then he smiled at Castiel with the same level of animosity as had been sent his way.

“Well, _Steve_ , maybe I will take your advice and take the fast way down.”

“What?” Sam squawked, but stumbled after his brother as he dragged him toward the edge.

Castiel stared agog as Dean shoved his brother over the side and jumped after him.  Hannah screamed and that jolted him to action.  He ran over to the side and looked down, expecting to see two bodies splattered far below them on the ground.  Instead he saw the Winchester brothers walking precariously along a narrow ledge and toward a section of the building that sloped gently to another ledge one story down.  Of course, how could Castiel have forgotten how easily the Engel estate was to climb down?  It was easy to climb up.  He’d done it dozens of times in his youth, using the ugly, ill-fitting architecture of the west wing to provide a plethora of hand and toe holds and at times outright ladders to play on.

Even still, they were twenty stories up and one slip would mean certain death.  He and Hannah were in a trance as they watched the two boys make their way down, slowly but efficiently.  Castiel knew he should sound the alarm, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of them, convinced if he did they would slip and fall.  And why would he care if they did?  Good riddance to a couple of annoying, corrupted Lawmen.  About halfway down, Dean led them away from the next piece that would let them slide down to the next level.  He looked up, and even though his face was mostly just a light colored splotch in the dark of night against the dark colored building, Castiel could tell he gave him a wink.  And then he and his brother disappeared into the wall.  They must have found an open window.

“Did they fall?” Hannah asked, her voice shaky.

“No,” Castiel said and turned on his heel to walk toward the elevator.  Hannah scurried after him.

“Are you going to fight him again?  Inside?”

Castiel waved his card key over the lock and the door slid shut.  The floor dropped slowly as it returned them to the main level.

“No, we’re going to let them go.”

“We are?” Hannah asked, hope coloring her voice.

“Of course.  It would be bad manners to start a brawl in the middle of a party as lovely as this.  Let them have their fun.  I’m sure they’re leaving anyway.  And they know the insult will not be tolerated.  They will be dealt with tomorrow.”

“Oh, Castiel, is it really that big of a deal?  So they came to a party.”

Castiel rounded on her, eyes flashing.  “They came to an Engel party to mock us!  Where is your respect for your family?  Your father?!”

Hannah dropped her head, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.  “I heard my father drew on him,” she sniffed miserably.

Castiel didn’t respond.  He’d heard the same rumor.

“And I like Keith—”

“ _Sam_ ,” Castiel ground out.  “Sam Winchester.”

Hannah raised her and looked at him defiantly.  “Fine, Sam, whatever.  I don’t care.  I like him.  He’s nice.  And he thinks all this feuding is stupid!  And so do I!”

Castiel shook his head.  “The two of you are too young to understand.”

The elevator reached the ground floor and the door opened.

“Or maybe the two of you are too old to think without your heads up your asses!”

Hannah finally burst into tears and ran out of the elevator.  Several heads turned to look at him.  They all clucked their tongues and looked away—dismissing the incident as the freak upsetting someone—as usual.  Castiel sighed and excited the elevator, unsure of what to do with himself.  He decided a shower might be in order—to wash the taint of Winchester off his body.

As he walked toward the private elevators in the main part of the estate—sandwiched between the east and west wings—he blushed as he remembered the reasons why he was “covered in Winchester” as it were.  He ignored the slight tremor in his hand as he used his card key to enter the personal quarters of the Engels.  It was just because he was angry at the Winchesters’ audacity; he was not upset that the man he had befriended turned out to be an enemy.  And it certainly wasn’t because he was remembering how good his hands had felt and how soft and sweet his lips were and how pleasurable it had been to feel his hard, velvety cock slipping between his thighs—

Castiel punched the wall and immediately regretted it as pain exploded in his hand.  He shook it out as he got on the elevator and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor to take him to his room.  Dean Winchester had humiliated him.  He’d probably known all along it was him and had laughed behind his back as he’d defiled him.  The next time he saw the man, there would be a reckoning.

~~~

Dean fingered the gun at his belt as his eyes slid warily around the market square.  It was bustling with activity as merchants were out selling their wares and the citizens enjoyed the three hour break in their work schedule to handle personal errands and reset their brains for the afternoon.

It had been two days since the Engel Masquerade Ball and no one had come to their door demanding that he and Sam be arrested for trespassing.  Perhaps they were waiting for the next Council meeting which would be in a couple of weeks in order to humiliate their entire family publicly.

“Dean Winchester!”

Dean grinned.  Or maybe he was going to start a duel in the middle of the market square.

He turned around and saw Castiel Engel standing thirty yards away, flanked by two Engel lackeys.  The buzzing conversations of the square died down one by one as people noticed that the Engels and Winchesters were facing off—again.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel repeated his name and took two steps forward.  “You have insulted the honor of my family for the last time.  Do you admit it or are you a cowardly villain?”  Castiel spat on the ground, a clear insult to the Winchester family.  Everyone in the square held their breath as they waited for Dean’s response.

“I am most certainly not a cowardly villain, but I have nothing to confess to.”

“Do you deny trespassing on the Engel property and corrupting a child of the Engel name?”

Dean was a confused for a moment, wondering if Castiel was referring to himself and their escapade on the third floor balcony.  Then he realized he was implying he had done something to his young female cousin.

“You dog,” Dean ground out, feeling real anger now.  “Making false accusations _again_ in order to get rid of the people that would keep your family honest.  You vile…shitbag.”

Their audience let out a nervous huff of laughter.  Castiel’s lips twitched and Dean swore it was to fight back a smile.

“Eloquent,” Castiel said dryly.

“Do you challenge me, sir?” Dean shouted loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I do, sir,” Castiel replied quietly.

“In a place such as this?”  Dean tsked.  “Typical that an Engel has no regard for anyone’s safety but his own.”

Castiel held his arms out to his sides and one of the people with him, a woman, stepped forward and removed the gun from his holster.  The second person, a man, removed knives from his boot and beneath his sleeve.

“I am unarmed now,” Castiel said bitingly.

Dean felt his face contort into a snarl and felt like shooting the fucker right where he stood for challenging him to hand to hand combat with no way to withdraw or get backup of his own.  He felt a hand on his wrist and looked over to see his friend Benny Lafitte stopping him from grabbing his gun.  He removed the gun from its holster and asked if he had any other weapons on him.  Dean almost lied, but then admitted to having a knife tucked into his boot.  Benny removed that too.  The crowd had started to circle around them.

Dean and Castiel moved forward slowly, eyeing each other carefully, looking for weaknesses or telegraphing.  The more tense and anxious the crowd got, the more tension formed in Dean’s shoulders.  He could tell that Castiel wasn’t much better.  They got within a few paces of each other and braced themselves for a fight.  They lunged forward, both aiming to hit to knock out—and then there was shouting and general chaos as a runaway horse and carriage burst through the crowd, dispersing them in the chaotic scatter of people running for their lives.  The nearby baker dove behind a pile of sacks of flour as the carriage hit his stand sent the tall shelves spilling forward.

Dean ducked and fell to his knees, covering his head.  He heard screaming and the crash of the stand as it splintered around him.  Then the shouting quieted as the horse was brought under control and people stopped running and crashing into things.  Dean felt something warm sliding down the back of his neck.  He reached back to see if it was blood, but when he brought his hand back it was covered in a sticky brown substance that smelled sweet and cinnamon-y.  He tentatively put a finger to his mouth and licked some off.  It was apple pie filling.  He realized then that he was covered in about seven different kinds of pie.

He heard a snort of laughter and looked up, ready to be annoyed and angry that an Engel dare laugh at him.  But then he burst into laughter.  Castiel Engel was covered head to foot in white flour—his eyes a stark blue as they peered out of his white face.  They smiled at each other’s appearance for a moment.  And then they scowled and leapt to their feet.

Before they could resume their never started fight, the baker hollered at them to help him get his stand back upright.  The baker blamed them for the mess, but they certainly hadn’t caused the horse to go wild.  The baker blamed the tension for the horse’s unease and they were the cause of the tension.  Grumbling they helped the man and then were pulled away by their respective parties to keep them from resuming the fight.

A couple hundred yards away, Hannah Engel and Sam Winchester peered over the top of the bales of hay they hid behind.  Hannah dropped the garden snake she’d used to spook the horse and shot a look at Sam.

“Would you call that a success or a failure?”

Sam looked around at the disaster area that used to be the market square as people starting cleaning things up and attending to minor wounds.  Castiel and Dean were being led away from each other, neither having shed the other’s blood.  He looked back at Hannah.

“Success?” he asked.

~~~

A week after his almost duel with Dean Winchester in the market square, Castiel wandered the perimeter of the city plotting his next move.  They’d both been reprimanded by Council members for stirring up trouble—not that that stupid horse had been their fault at all.  However, it had been enough for them both to cool their heels temporarily.  They had plenty of time to kill each other before the Council met in a week and forced a resolution between them.  More than likely it would be non-violent unless they asked for an official duel.  Castiel wasn’t sure he was a quicker draw than Winchester, but he could probably kick his ass in a knife fight.  Which meant the Council wouldn’t let their duel be done with either guns or knives.  Which in turn meant it would be hand to hand combat.  He’d been foolish enough to provoke that very thing in the market square, but it wasn’t something he really wanted do.  The only thing worse than the thought of being pummeled to death was the thought of feeling a human’s body turn to pulp under his fists.  He shuddered at the thought.  And who would want to ruin Dean’s pretty face anyway?  Castiel scowled.  Fuck Winchester and his good looks.  He was a Winchester and he deserved to die no matter how pretty his lips were.

Castiel stepped gingerly over the large gaps in the grating that covered the sewage tunnel that led out of the town into the river downstream.  He didn’t know who might live down stream of them, but he hoped there was no town upstream from them.  Fortunately it was the tunnel that led from the bathhouses and not the privies, so the smells in the air were only from slightly stagnant water.

“ _You_.  The fuck are you doing here?”

Castiel looked up and saw Dean Winchester stepping down from the stairs that led to the top of the wall.

“What are _you_ doing here, Lawman?” Castiel demanded.  As a member of the Governing family, it was the Engels’ responsibility to investigate any potential municipal violations.  Hannah had come to him that morning with a message from her mother that the Masons were not maintaining the tunnels correctly.  He was out here to inspect the grating, especially the bits that guarded the exit—and potential stealthy entrance—to their city.  Of course he had been sent.  Castiel was best suited to these kinds of jobs—away from people and near sewage.

“Not that it’s any of your damned business, you guinea pig faced chicken fucker, but there was a report of illegal dumping in the bathhouse drain.

“What did you call me?” Castiel demanded and hopped onto the next grating bar, two feet away.

Dean easily stepped onto the next bar, returning his glare as they approached each other.

“You heard me, you weasel licking cocksucker.”

“Well, my tongue sure is busy isn’t it?”

“Hard to see how though with all the blah blah blah you—whoa!”

Dean cut off as Castiel yelped when they both stepped onto the same bar and it spun under their feet.  They slipped between the bars and were unable to grab a hold of them as they were too disoriented.  Plus Castiel’s side was smarting from where his ribs had smashed into it on the way down.  He landed in the two inch deep stream of water below with a crunch and a groan.  Dean’s muffled cursing informed him he wasn’t much better off.  Above them, panicked voices called out as he heard the ringing of careful feet stepping on the bars.

“Castiel?  Are you okay?  I told you this was a stupid idea,” Hannah snapped.

“I didn’t think they would actually fall through the bars,” Sam replied, his voice tight with concern.

“The fuck are you two doing?” Dean bellowed up at them.

Castiel grimaced as he sat up and glared at Dean for making so much racket.  He looked up and saw his cousin and Dean’s brother peering down at them through the bars.  They were about ten feet up.  Too far to jump up and grab the bars.

“Sorry,” Hannah said.  “We just thought if you two were alone you could talk it out.”

Castiel made a face and then glanced over at Dean.  He hooked a thumb in the children’s direction and gave him a “are they fucking morons?” look.  Dean shrugged back at him.  He looked up at his brother.

“This is not going to be solved with words, Sam.  Mortal enemies, remember?  Aren’t you supposed to be so smart?  Look it up.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“But we’re going to kill the both of you first,” Castiel grumbled.  “Go find some rope to help us out of here.”

“If one of you gave the other a boost, you could reach the bars,” Hannah pointed out.

“And which one do you propose to do the boosting, Hannah?” Castiel asked.  Who is going to put himself in that vulnerable of a position and who is going to risk getting left behind?”

“Oh my gosh you two are such babies.”

“You two stop being a couple of idiots,” Dean ground out.  “And get some fucking rope!  And don’t do it together for God’s sake!  Act like you hate each other!”

Hannah and Sam made faces at him, but then their faces disappeared.  Castiel felt dread settle into his stomach.

“You think they’re going to come back at all?” he asked, a little worried.

“They’d better,” Dean groused.

“Oh!” Sam’s face appeared over them again.  “Don’t kill each other while we’re gone.”

Then they heard the ringing of the bars as the two of them hopped across the grate and to solid land.  Castiel turned a glare on Dean, who was glaring right back.  Now that he was thinking of murder again—well, justified homicide—he reached for his gun.  His hand hit thin air.  He panicked and took eyes off of Dean to look at the holster.  His gun was missing.  It must have fallen out when he hit the ground.  He looked at Dean; he still had his gun and his fingers were resting lightly on it.  Castiel took a couple of steps back, his eyes scanning for his gun or something else to use as a weapon.

“Relax,” Dean muttered.  “I’m not gonna shoot an unarmed man.”

Castiel didn’t relax at his words.  It was hard to trust a dishonorable family with following the codes of honorable fighting.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to help you find your gun so I can shoot you in the face.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and swept his foot around in the water, feeling for his weapon.  He kept his eyes on Dean.  Dean, the asshole, dropped his eyes to look in the slightly murky water.  Of course he had his hand on his gun, so what did he care if he looked away from his enemy?

Castiel thought he felt something and he chanced a glance down but it was only a rock.  He darted his eyes back up and watched on with horror as Dean bent over and picked his gun up out of the water.  There was a good chance it was waterlogged and wouldn’t work, but now Dean had two weapons and Castiel none.  Dean held the weapon out, handle to Castiel.  He gave him a blank stare.  Castiel swallowed and had no choice but to ease forward one careful step at a time, moving closer to his enemy and potential murderer.

Castiel held Dean’s gaze—why were his eyes so damn pretty?—and reached forward to take the weapon.  He snatched it back and leapt away.  Dean left his weapon holstered.

“Does it work?” he asked.

Castiel raised his arm and aimed the barrel at Dean’s face.  “Let’s see.”

He hesitated.  It was dishonorable to shoot Dean like this.  But who would know?  There were no witnesses.  He scowled and dropped his arm.  He cocked the hammer and fired into the water.  It clicked with an impotent “guh.”  He let out the breath he’d been holding and looked at his weapon.

“Fuck.”

He tried to clear the jam so he could open the chamber and see how screwed up it was.

“Pull back the pin,” Dean said.

“I know!” Castiel snapped.

He struggled with the gun for a few more seconds and then heard an exasperated sigh.

“Fucking Engels.  You don’t even know how to use guns.  Why do you carry them?”

“Shut up!  It’s just waterlogged!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t open it!  Give it here.”

Dean stepped forward and tried to take the gun from him.  Castiel twisted to the side, keeping out of his grasp.

“No!  Get away!  Don’t touch it!”

“Just give it here!  You’re going to break it.  It’s too nice a gun to let you fuck it up.”

“Shut.  Up.”

Castiel twisted again and Dean reached around him with both arms.  They struggled for a moment, and then there was a splashing sound and Castiel realized his gun had fallen back into the water again.  But he couldn’t be bothered with that because he was kissing Dean.  He wasn’t sure who had initiated it, but he was the one with his hands tangled in Dean’s short hair so he could direct his head to the best angle for their lips to seal and their tongues to play in a sensual game of back and forth between their mouths.  Dean’s hands were on his ass, swooping down to pick him up by the backs of his thighs and walk him to the wall of the tunnel so he could slam him up against it.

Castiel spread his legs and let Dean settle a thigh between them.  He rubbed his erection up and down against the hard muscle of Dean’s thigh.  Their gasping breaths and smacking lips echoed obscenely in the chamber.  Before he knew it, their cocks were out and gathered in Dean’s large hand and Castiel keened and hummed and clawed at Dean’s back as he stroked their shafts furiously.  Castiel came with Dean’s tongue in his mouth and a finger prodding his hole.  He threw his head back to gulp in air as he shuddered through his orgasm and then felt himself sliding down Dean’s leg.  His knees hit the ground and he was kneeling in the water in front a Dean.  Dean who was still hard and leaking.  His mouth fell open, surprised that Dean had held back.  When Dean shoved his cock into his mouth, he understood why.

Castiel opened his mouth wide and curved his lips over his teeth.  He tipped his head back slightly to open his throat and allowed Dean to thrust into him wildly.  Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and saliva dribbled down his chin from the corner of his mouth, but he did nothing but hold onto Dean’s hips as the man fucked his throat raw.  He felt him tense, tasted the bitter saltiness of Dean’s precome.  He knew what was coming.  What it would mean for Dean to come down his throat…and he didn’t care.

Dean pulled back with only a second to spare and came all over his face instead.  Castiel panted and put a hand to his groin as his dick twitched when he felt the thick, warm ropes of Dean’s seed crisscross his face.  He heard Dean groan low in his throat.  Castiel opened his eyes and was floored by how beautiful Dean looked as he savored his released.  Then he opened his eyes and they stared at each other—both all too aware how close they had come to crossing a line reserved only for spouses.

Dean tucked himself back into his pants and Castiel stood up on shaky legs, putting himself away as well.  He wasn’t sure what to do about his face when suddenly Dean was cleaning him with a damp, white handkerchief.  He was oddly touched by the gesture until he realized why it must be wet.

“Did you just soak that in sewage water?!”

Dean shrugged.  “It’s from the baths.  It’s clean, right?”

“Ugh.  You revolting, ignorant, idiotic—”

Castiel cut off when Dean kissed him.  He kissed him back because if one or both of them were going to kill the other, they should do this while they could.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped into his mouth.  “What are we doing?”

“Thought that was obvious,” Dean groaned and pushed their lips together again, making it impossible for Castiel to talk or think straight.  He wasn’t sure how long they kissed, only that he was lightheaded and starting to suspect that Dean planned on sneakily suffocating him to death.

“Oh my God!”

Dean and Castiel jumped apart, wiping their mouths, and looking up at the source of the interruption.

Sam and Hannah peered down at them.  Sam clutched a rope in his hand.

“Were you two…kissing?” Hannah asked.

“No,” Dean and Castiel said and Sam cackled out a “Yes.”

“That’s awesome!” Sam said.  “So, you’re not fighting anymore, right?”

“Sam, don’t be an idiot,” Dean snapped.  “Throw down the rope.”

Sam tied the rope to one of the bars and allowed it to fall down into the tunnel.  He effortlessly climbed out and hauled himself through the bars.

“You coming, Castiel?” Hannah asked.

He kept his head down.  “I need to find my gun first.  And it would be better if you all left.  If I find it and come out, Dean and I will face off.”

“What?  You can’t mean that!  You’re not still fighting.”

“It’s not a fight, Hannah!”

“That’s right,” Dean said gruffly.  “It’s a feud.  It’s a blood grudge.  I killed your father, little girl.  Does that mean nothing to you?”

Hannah shrank back.  “I heard he drew first.”

Dean huffed.  “He did.  So what?  He drew because I’m a Winchester and he’s an Engel.  If he hadn’t drawn on me, I would have drawn on him.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Sam said, voice cracking with bitter anger.

Dean grabbed his arm and hauled him away.  “You stay away from her!” he yelled as they hopped across the bars.  “This isn’t some star-crossed lovers bullshit!  You two need to stay away!”

“Oh, you’re calling _us_ the star crossed lovers?” Castiel heard Sam’s fading shout.

He bent down and picked up his gun.  He put it in his holster without even checking to see if it was in working condition.  He climbed up the thin rope with a little difficulty, and let Hannah help pull him up.  After they made their way across the grate, the Winchester brothers were long gone.  Castiel exhaled sharply as he looked at Hannah with her hangdog expression.

“There was no report of municipal violations, was there?”

Hannah gave a slight shake of her head.

Castiel sighed softly.  “Look, I understand what you and the Winchester boy are trying to do, but it’s not that simple.  It’s not just between us.  It’s between our families.  It’s about the bad blood that’s always been between us.  That can’t be solved by having a good heart to heart.”

“And why not?” Hannah demanded, raising her head.  “Why can’t we all talk it out?  Isn’t that what the Council’s for?  And why do we hate each other anyway?  No one even knows why anymore.  Doesn’t that seem stupid?”

“It’s more complicated than that.  You’re too young to understand.”

“No, I’m really not, Castiel.  You’re too stupid to question what you’ve been taught!”

“And what are we if we do that?  Anarchists?!  You know what happens outside of these walls!  What life is like for those who question authority!”

Hannah drew herself up.  “I thought we prided ourselves on being better than the Outsiders.  That we can think for ourselves and settle matters without violence!  There’s no need to fight any of the Winchesters.  Especially Dean.  Not when you like him.”

“I don’t like him,” Castiel snapped.

“But…you were…”

“See?  You’re too young to even understand that sex doesn’t have to have anything to do with liking someone.”

Hannah’s eyes went wide.  “ _Sex_?” she whispered the word.  “I thought you were just kissing!  You had _sex_?” she whispered the word again.

Castiel groaned and stomped away from her.  “I’m through discussing this with you.”

“Castiel!  That’s so great!  You love each other!”

Castiel rolled his eyes as his cousin skipped after him.  He didn’t bother to correct her.  If she couldn’t understand angry kissing, she certainly wasn’t going to understand hate sex.  And it was ludicrous.  He wasn’t in love with someone he’d known for a week and fucked around with twice.  Well, okay, technically he and Dean had known each other since they were children having grown up in the town and gone to school together.  And perhaps they’d had a conversation or two during those school years when they’d been forced to work on homework together.  And maybe he knew that Dean loved pie and good rock music and was a total mama’s boy, but he didn’t really know him.  Except now, he “knew” him.

Castiel chuckled at his own joke.  Then he caught Hannah grinning at him out of the corner of his eye.  He put his scowl back in place and marched ahead of her.

~~~

Dean was backed by Christian, Gwen, and Mark this time.  Castiel’s flunkies had nothing on his third cousins twice removed or what the fuck ever they were.  They were away from public places, but there was still a large crowd gathering around them.  The posturing had been going on between both groups for some time now.  Neither seemed particularly inclined to be the first ones to incite violence, but they had to do it tonight.  The Council was meeting tomorrow and they would force the Winchesters and Engels to handle it in a respectable manner.  And where was the fun in that?

Cat calls and encouragement from the crowd punctuated the darkness.  Four large torches provided the only light and occasionally guttered in the strong breeze that blew through the empty field.  The crowd wasn’t really for one side or the other—it was dangerous to pick sides against the Engels or the Winchesters—they just wanted a good show.

The Winchesters and the Engels made a show of disarming themselves.  The crowd got louder.  Christian threw the first punch.  Of course he did.  And then it was on.  An ugly brawl broke out—punching and kicking and even hair pulling—though the women were the ones who had enough dignity not to resort to that.  It got heated, but there was also an air of sport about it.  Dean and Castiel grappled once or twice, but deliberately peeled away when they felt themselves getting too worked up with adrenaline and proximity.  It was one thing to turn a fight into a fuck in a storm drain, but in front of half the town?  Not a good idea.

Dean threw a skinny Engel over his shoulder and looked up in time to see Castiel punch Christian in the nuts.  He grinned.  He really didn’t like Christian.  Castiel caught his look and rolled his eyes slightly as he wiped the blood from his mouth—to hide his answering grin.  Christian staggered toward Dean, cursing and cupping his balls.

“That bitch,” Christian spit out.

“He is feisty,” Dean said with a laugh and took the momentary reprieve in fighting to catch his breath as the Winchesters and Engels staggered to opposite sides of the circle.  The crowd booed at them pausing and the fighters flicked them off.

“Dishonorable fuck head,” Christian muttered and pulled out a gun.

Dean’s eyes went wide.  He was supposed to be disarmed.  He aimed at Castiel.  Dean reached forward and pushed his arm.

“No!”

The gun went off.  It missed Castiel, but the crowd was in a circle.  Alarmed cries broke out as a spectator went down.  Dean saw Hannah Engel standing near the victim, her hands over her mouth.  Dean felt sick to his stomach.  It wasn’t possible.  He sprinted across the circle and pushed his way through the clumping crowd and found Sam on the ground.  But he was sitting up and breathing fine.  He held his shoulder and winced slightly as he pulled his hand back.  His palm was bloody, but it was clear the wound had been superficial.  Dean dropped to his knees and let out a breath that was embarrassingly close to a sob.

“You okay, Sam?” he forced out.

“I guess.  But who the hell kept their gun?  Isn’t that cheating?”

“Yes, it is!” shouted an indignant Engel.

Dean got to his feet, his rage making his vision swim.  But he didn’t advance on the shouter or Castiel or any other Engel.  He ran straight at Christian and tackled him to the ground.  He punched him in the face until his cousins and the crowd managed to pull him off.  He knew he was shouting, but he had no idea what he was saying.  By the time his head cleared, most of the crowd had dispersed and every single Engel had high tailed it out of there.

A couple people were helping Christian to his feet to get up and moving—he certainly wasn’t capable of doing it on his own.  Other people were hissing that they needed to leave before Lawmen who weren’t aware of the brawl showed up to see what had happened.  Dean staggered to his feet and found Sam.  Someone had bandaged his arm with his torn sleeve.  He pulled his brother close and buried his face in his too long hair.

What would he have done if this stupid feud had resulted in Sam dying?  It wasn’t worth it.  Sam’s life was worth more than some stupid grudge from so long ago nobody even knew who started it.  Sam tugged on him gently.

“Come on,” he said.  “Let’s go home.”

Dean nodded and released his brother so that they could walk slowly home, trying to come up with a good story to explain Sam’s injury that wouldn’t get his ass kicked by his father—or more frighteningly, by his mother.  They were about halfway home when Dean said, “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“For what?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“For almost getting you killed.”

Sam shrugged.  “It was an accident.  Besides, Christian shouldn’t have had a gun.”

“No, he shouldn’t have, but I shouldn’t have agreed to a public brawl like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.  You and Castiel—”

“It was reckless and stupid and I shouldn’t have let those fucking Engels talk me into it.”

Sam sighed.

“It will be best to let the Council sort this out tomorrow.  It’ll probably be guns at twenty paces.  But don’t you worry, I can outdraw him.”

Sam stopped walking and pulled on Dean’s arm to make him stop.

“Are you joking?  You want to duel with Castiel?”

Dean shrugged.

“You want to kill him?”

“He’s an Engel—”

“So the fuck what?!”

Dean blinked, startled by Sam’s vitriol and swearing.

“Dean…you…look, dude.  You have feelings for him.”

Dean balked.  “I do not—”

“Shut up, you do.  You two don’t fight.  You flirt.  It’s called foreplay.”

Dean blushed.  “How the hell do you know what foreplay is?” he grumbled.

“I’m fourteen; not a monk.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean ground out and started walking again.  “He’s an Engel therefore he’s an enemy.  Who cares if I have some weird, demented thing for him?  Nothing can come of it.  Not that he would want it to anyway.  He’s hellbent on killing us for crashing the Masquerade Ball and insulting his family or whatever.”

“Exactly.  Or ‘whatever.’  Like, no one cares.  Plus, he doesn’t want to kill you anymore than you do him.  And how do you know nothing will come of it if you don’t try?”

Dean let out a humorless bark of laughter.  “Because Winchesters and Engels don’t mesh, Sam.  And our families would never allow it.  You can’t just—end a blood feud because two kids make googly eyes at each other.”

“But…isn’t that what happened with Mom and Dad?”

“What?”

“The Winchesters and the Campbells.  Men of Letters and Hunters.  They hated each other, but Mom and Dad got married and now we’re Lawmen.”

Dean’s brow creased.  “That wasn’t the same.  That wasn’t a blood feud.  It was just a serious dislike of each other’s families.”

“Well, what is a blood feud if not a ‘serious dislike?’”

“It’s very different.  The Engels and Winchesters have hated each other since the city was founded.”

“So?  You and Castiel don’t.  Hannah and I don’t.  Why fight?”

They arrived outside their family’s manner and Dean stopped and put both hands on Sam’s shoulders.

“Sam, I appreciate you trying to bring peace to the world or whatever, but…nothing is going to change what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

Sam’s face turned red and his features screwed up in hurt and frustration.

“Fine!  Have your duel!  I hope you die!”

Sam ran inside and Dean sighed.  He wondered if the Council might decide to just fine them or something.  Maybe if he and Sam admitted fault to trespassing on the Engel’s property, they would just make them paint the walls surrounding the Engels estate.  More than not wanting to die tomorrow, he didn’t want to kill Castiel.  He’d known him most of his life—from afar for the most part—but it would be sad to exist in a world where his grumpy face wasn’t around to scowl at him when Dean made inappropriate jokes during Council meetings.

Dean trudged inside the manor, allowing the servants to take his coat and weapons.  He walked upstairs to his bedroom, bypassing Sam’s room even though the lights were on.  He probably needed to throw some things around so he could feel better.  He flicked on the lights when he entered his room, but then immediately flicked them off when the light hurt his eyes.  He crossed the large room and flopped onto his soft bed.  He winced as he felt the aches from the earlier fight start to set in.  Then he heard a clack at his window.  He raised his head, wondering if he was hearing things.  Then he heard another clack.

Dean stood up and opened the double doors that led onto the balcony that overlooked the garden.  Someone whispered his name.  He walked across to the railing and looked down.  Castiel stood in Dean’s mother’s petunias.  She was going to be pissed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?”

Dean strummed his fingers on the railing.  Why would they need to talk?  Perhaps Castiel was interested in proposing a fine as punishment to the Council as well.  They’d have a better chance of avoiding a duel if they both agreed on the terms ahead of time.

“Okay.  Hang on.  I’ll come down.”

“Wait, wait.  Can I come up?”

Dean cocked his head.  “Can you?”

Castiel smiled and then disappeared from his view under the balcony.  He heard some scrabbling and leaned over to try to see what the man was doing.  He bent over more, not able to catch sight of him.

“Dean.”

Dean spun around, his heart hammering in his chest as Castiel heaved himself onto the side railing.  He stepped forward and offered a hand for Castiel to hold as he swung his legs over the railing and hopped down onto the balcony.  Dean immediately dropped his hand once he was steady.  He crossed his arms defensively.

“So.  I guess you’re here to discuss the terms of a fine that we can suggest to the Council instead of a duel.”

“Oh.  No.  I came to see if Sam is okay.  Hannah was worried.”

Dean felt a little disappointed, and he wasn’t sure why.

“He’s fine.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“I also had a second purpose in coming here.”

Dean raised a brow.  “The terms?”

“No.”

Castiel stepped forward and took Dean’s face in his hands.  Dean’s arms were already reciprocating the embrace before their lips even came together.  Like before, their kisses were heated and fervent.  The sound of fabric tearing danced on the periphery of their senses as they shed their clothes and walked toward Dean’s bed.

Dean shoved a naked Castiel into the center of it and crawled on top of him.  Castiel spread his legs, inviting him in.

“You promised you’d fill me with your cock,” Castiel murmured in his ear.  “I thought the Winchesters were honorable.”

“Don’t worry, angel, I’ll _fulfill_ your wishes.”

He rocked his hips forward and Castiel groaned when their erections slid together.  There was a wild tumbling of limbs as they worked their way up the bed and to the side to retrieve the lubricant in Dean’s nightstand.  When he had three fingers inside Castiel, Dean knew he needed to get his cock in him soon or he was simply going to come on the sheets.  He leaned down and tried to kiss the spellbound look off of Castiel’s face.

“Baby.  I’m gonna enter you now.”

Castiel nodded.  “Yes, yes, please.  Hurry.”

“I need to put on a condom though…right?”

Castiel shook his head.  “Just pull out.”

Dean growled as he heard the answer to the question he’d been trying not to ask.  He slicked up his cock and pressed inside Castiel bare.  They both groaned—much too loudly.  Someone was definitely going to hear them.  Dean kissed Castiel to stifle any further noises either of them would make and thrust into him, setting a hard, driving pace right from the beginning.  It wasn’t long before they couldn’t kiss—they just clutched at each other and kept their eyes squeezed shut as they panted into the other’s mouth.

Then Castiel let out a soft keening noise and Dean felt his body start to tense and lock up—and then he was coming.  He felt it as Castiel’s come splashed between their bodies and his hole spasmed around his dick.  Dean almost lost it.

“Fuck, fuck, Cas…Cas, baby, I need to pull out!”

Castiel threw a leg around Dean’s back and shook his head.  Dean let out a sound that could only be described as a whimper and dropped his forehead to Castiel’s shoulder as he came suddenly and hard.  Dean dragged in ragged gasps of air as he felt himself pouring his seed into Castiel’s body, and Castiel accepting it.  He almost started crying it felt so good—and so frightening.

At last he lifted his head and looked down into Castiel’s shining eyes.

“What have we done?” he asked.

“The right thing,” Castiel replied.

~~~

The next morning Dean woke up alone, with cold sheets where Castiel had lain for a couple of hours after their lovemaking.  He’d wisely decided to go home rather than get caught inside the Winchester estate and reignite an even worse feud.  Dean showered and dressed, but before he could make it downstairs for breakfast, his little brother hurled himself at him and smothered him in a hug.

“I didn’t mean it!” Sam cried.  “I don’t want you to die!”

“Relax, you big baby.  I’m not gonna die.”

Sam sniffed.  “But…”

“Don’t worry.  It’ll all work out okay.  You’ll see.”

He pushed his brother away and gave him a little wink before he sauntered down the stairs and plopped himself at the breakfast table.  His father glared at him and his mother looked at him with worried eyes.

“Dean,” she said, “you know today is the Council meeting, right?”

“Yeah, Mom, don’t worry.  Me and the Engel asshat worked out an alternative to a duel.”

His mother signed in relief but his father scowled.

“Collaborating with an Engel?  Not a Winchester.”

“Would you rather him risk his life in a duel?” his mother snapped.

His father frowned and bit into his toast with unwarranted viciousness.  Dean’s mother patted his hand.

“That’s fine if you two worked out an arrangement.  You can go back to your silly feud tomorrow.”

His father grumbled, but didn’t dare speak with his mouth full.  Dean gave his mother a lopsided smile.  She tilted her head as he smiled back, clearly suspicious that her son was up to something, but she didn’t press him for answers.

A couple hours later they—along with the entire town—were gathered in the Council Hall.  In fact, it might just be the whole town who showed up as the cavernous, round room was filled to capacity.  Apparently everyone was itching to see what would happened between the Winchesters and the Engels.  The pairs of Winchesters, Harvelles, Lafittes, Crowleys, and Engels took their places on a dais.  The stadium seating for the spectators fanned out from that point with a large circle in front of the dais where people petitioning the Council for permissions or rectifications of grievances could take the floor.

Despite everyone being antsy for the Winchester/Engel showdown, three other townspeople presented their petitions first.  One person asked for another portion of communal land to feed his growing herd of cattle—a growth necessitated by the growth of the population of the city.  It was granted.  Then a woman demanded that she be paid for wool she spun and dyed for a client who insisted it was the wrong color even though a bill of sale was produced proving a color had not been specified.  The spinner received her money.  The third petitioner asked for the right to change Guilds—something that happened rarely and therefore sparked a lengthy debate.

Dean sweated and fidgeted as the Council members spent a long time debating the pros and cons of allowing a break in their carefully constructed order.  Across the room he could see that Castiel looked pale and slightly nauseated.  They weren’t unsure of the decision they had come to last night, but facing John Winchester and Michael Engel was not going to be fun.

At last the man was told he could change Guilds for a trial period of three months.  If it didn’t work out, he would have to switch back.  He agreed to the stipulations and left the floor.  Finally, it was their turn.

The crowd murmured as their names were called and they stepped into the arena.  They crossed the floor, eyes locked on each other.  When they reached each other, keeping a respectable distance between them, they turned to face the Council.

“We hear it that the Engels and Winchesters feud has been causing distress in the town,” Ellen Harvelle said with disapproving eyes.  “I take it the two of you are here to petition the Council to have a fair duel so that there will be no retribution on the part of the slain party’s family?”

“No, ma’am,” Dean said.

Ellen relaxed a little.  “I’m glad to hear that.  Shall we work out the terms of the fine?  Who is the transgressor?”

“Winchester!” Naomi shouted from her perch.  “They trespassed on our property.  During the Masquerade Ball.  And it wasn’t just one.  There’s a second one.  He’s old enough to face the consequences too.  Where is he?”

The room’s murmuring grew louder.

“Silence!” Crowley bellowed and the room went quiet.

“Is there any validity to this claim?” Ellen asked.

“Of course not!” John Winchester shouted.  “It’s the Engels trying trap my sons in a set up.  Your invitations clearly read that anyone can come!  You can’t ex post facto that to mean ‘No Winchesters!’”

“The ‘No Winchesters’ is implied,” Michael Engel started.

The Council started arguing and the room broke out into raucous noise.  A gunshot made everyone gasp and go quiet.  Everyone stared at the audacity of Dean Winchester to fire his weapon in the sanctity of the Council Hall.

“Dean Winchester,” Ellen started with a very menacing tone.

“Forgive me, ma’am,” he broke in.  “I just didn’t see the point of letting the argument continue.  Castiel Engel and I aren’t here to request a grievance be rectified.”

There was a general sound of “Huh?” that came from the room.

“Then why are you two here?”

Dean glanced at Castiel and he gave him a reassuring smile.  Dean held out his hand and Castiel took it.  They faced the Council.

“We are here to petition the council for the right to marry.”

Noise broke out in the room again and a woman in the third row fainted.  John Winchester and Naomi Engel were on their feet, screaming their heads off—and demanding the heads of their enemies be delivered to them on platters.  It took quite a while before the room settled and the Lafittes managed to get the rest of the Council members to sit down and shut up.  Mary Winchester stood up.

“The council has no legal right to prevent two consenting parties from marrying.  We can only grant legal recognition of the union.  Therefore your petition for marriage is grant—”

“Wait!” John yelled as he stood up while Naomi shouted “That is hardly—!”

“Shut up!” Ellen yelled.

Before anyone could draw breath to speak again, Castiel said quickly, but very loudly, “We’ve already consummated the union.”

All eyes were on them as no one dared to ask the one question on the tip of everyone’s tongue.  At last, Michael Engel managed to stammer out, “But…without a sharing of…um…it’s not necessarily binding…”

“There was sharing,” Castiel confirmed.  There was a beat.  “Dean came inside me.”

The room burst into giggles and gasps and Dean covered his eyes with his free hand.  This was mortifying.

“Good on ya, brother,” Benny murmured from the dais.

Dean groaned softly.

“Your petition is granted!” John Winchester shouted hastily.

“The two of you get out of here and get this thing legal!” Naomi said, sounding absolutely scandalized.

Dean lowered his hand and saw his mother smiling at him, though she did look a tad embarrassed.  He glanced over at Castiel who looked utterly stoic after his announcement.  He looked at Dean with a questioning face.

“What?  You did.”

Dean grinned and pulled him close.  “Yeah, I guess I did.”

He kissed Castiel in front of the whole town—taking the first step in unifying the Winchesters and the Engels.  Two families that had been at each other’s throats for nearly two centuries—after Gabriel Engel had painted the Winchesters’ beloved horse pink.

 


	3. Friends to Lovers

**Friends to Lovers**

1.  Meet in College, Become Friends, Realize it's Something More - Destiel - General Audiences

2\.  Crush on Friend's Sibling - Destiel - Mature

 

 

**1\.  Just Met/Friendship Develops – Destiel – General Audiences**

 

_Warnings: Castiel/Gadreel_

 

“Cas, let’s go!”

Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes up so hard he was pretty certain he saw the inside of his skull.  He tapped his highlighter on his textbook and counted to five (he couldn’t make it to ten) before he answered.

“I told you I didn’t want to go, Zeke,” Castiel called out, hoping that would be the end of it.

He heard footsteps coming down the hallway toward his dorm room.  His boyfriend popped his head inside the open door and frowned at him.

“Come on, man, you know this isn’t optional for me.  You said you’d go for moral support.”

Cas sagged.  “But this is so stupid.  Why would the basketball team haze its new members by making them go to a frat party?”

“It’s not a frat party.  It’s a basketball team party.  Seriously, it’s not going to be that bad.”

“No shit,” Castiel’s roommate murmured.  “Like a mostly white basketball team at a Division III school is going to get into any trouble.”

“Shut up, Ion,” Castiel and Zeke said together.

Zeke gave him a look and pressed his lips together.  He wasn’t very good at making puppy dog eyes, but he could outstare anyone—even Castiel.  Sighing again, Cas shut his textbook and tossed it on the bed behind him as he stood up.  He picked up his wallet from the dresser and started for the door.

“Are you going to wear that?” Zeke asked.

Cas looked down.  He was wearing jeans and an AC/DC T-shirt.  He looked up at his boyfriend.  He must actually be freaked about this party if he gave two shits about what Castiel was wearing.

“What would you like me to wear?”

Zeke shook his head.  “It’s fine.  You’re fine.”

Cas used every ounce of willpower he had not to sigh or roll his eyes again.  He turned and walked over to the drab, school-provided wardrobe on wheels that housed what little clothing wasn’t stuffed in the dresser or currently living in a laundry basket.  He swiftly swapped out the T-shirt and jeans for a tailored dark blue button down and a pair of tight, black jeans.  He turned back to Zeke and held his arms out.  His boyfriend smiled and glanced over at Ion who had put on his headphones.

“Not so sure I want to go to the party anymore,” he said with the mildest of leers.  Which for Zeke—was just downright dirty.

Cas laughed softly and picked up his wallet again.  “Let’s go, Mister Basketball Star.  We have an appearance to make.”

Zeke briefly put a hand on the small of his back to usher him out of the room, and that brazen display of PDA was probably all Cas would get for the night.  He might be able to finagle a goodnight kiss from him later, but only if Ion was gone or he could plant one on his boyfriend before he realized they were standing in an empty hallway.  Castiel seriously wondered if Zeke’s upbringing wasn’t so much “extremely religious” as it was simply abusive.  The poor guy was tortured enough with a name like Ezekiel—which already was the middle name he chose to go by rather than his given name, Gadreel—what did they do to him that he grew faint at the thought of being affectionate in public?  And yet—that same family was perfectly okay with the fact that he was dating a dude.  If they ever got married, they were never doing any holidays with Zeke’s family.

Despite the party not being a “frat party” it was being held in the house that the senior members of the basketball team lived in—which was on frat row.  The sounds—loud music, drunken shouting, and the occasional crashing furniture—that came out of the basketball team party soundly suspiciously like those emanating from the nearby frat houses.  Castiel stopped in his tracks.  Zeke pulled him forward by the elbow.

“Don’t fail me now, Cas.  I’m not allowed to come alone.”

“You could have brought Abner,” Cas groused.

Zeke gave him a look as he tugged him gently up the stairs to the front door.  “Yeah, because when you saw us having coffee together the other day you were totally cool with it.”

Cas repeated “totally cool with it” in a high-pitched, mocking voice—because he had no defense.  He’d been a total ass about “catching” his boyfriend having a “lunch date” with his ex-boyfriend.  He was still grumbling to himself about whether he was more upset at Zeke for seeing his ex or himself for overreacting like a crazy bitch when they stopped in front of the door.  Zeke raised a hand to knock, but it swung in suddenly.  Loud cheers erupted and Zeke was pulled into the house.  Cas was grabbed and yanked inside as well, the door slamming shut behind them.

“What are you—” Cas managed to get out as he saw the team doing something to Zeke’s wrist before he realized his own arm was still under someone else’s control.  He turned to look at a tall guy—okay, everyone in the room was tall—as he held Cas’ wrist against somebody else’s.

“So glad you showed up, Zeke,” someone was saying.  “Poor Dean and Benny have been waiting for like fifteen minutes.”

“Without drinks I might add,” someone with a beard drawled testily.

“Rules are rules!”

Cas’ attention turned back to his arm when he felt something tight choke up on his wrist.

“Ow.”  He tried to pull his arm back, but brought the arm of somebody else with him.  He realized Tall Guy #84 had zip tied his wrist to someone else’s.  He raised his eyes and saw the profile of a good looking man grinning broadly as he eyed the keg in the next room.

“Finally,” he said and took off, dragging Castiel after him.

Cas turned and frantically sought out Zeke—he was being zip tied to a girl who had just come inside while her escort was tied off to Beard Guy.  Zeke gave him a wave with his free hand and smiled sheepishly.  Cas scowled.  Zeke had known this was coming.

Cas stumbled into the side of his fellow hostage as he came to a stop at the keg.

“Whoa,” the guy said as he steadied him.  “You start the party before you came?”

“How could I possibly do that?” Cas ground out, still pissed he was skipping studying for this nonsense.

“Drinking, man.  Did you start drinking before you arrived?”

“No.”

“Well, then you should really start otherwise we are going to have a shitty night.”

Cas glowered at the man but took the red solo cup from his hand and chugged the entire contents in about five swallows.  He handed the cup back to the guy whose green eyes were wide with surprise.  Then he grinned.

“Alright, then.”

He filled up the cup again and handed it to Cas before filling up his own cup.  The man led him by the tied wrist away from the keg as it became more crowded by thirsty party-goers—all of whom were zip tied together in pairs.

“What is the point of this?” Cas asked, holding up their bound wrists.

“It forces you to meet new people.  So you can’t stay attached to the person you came to the party with all night.”

Cas gave him a dubious look and then jumped when a pair stumbled into the back of the couch.  One of them fell over the back and the other was half pulled over by their attached arm.  The guy smiled.

“It’s also funny.”

“If you pull me over the back of a couch…” Cas warned.

The man laughed and his face lit up.  He did seem really nice, or at the very least, outgoing.

“Wouldn’t dream of it…” he trailed of expectantly.

“Cas.”

“Cas.  I’m Dean.”

Dean offered his free left hand, and Cas awkwardly shook it with his right.

“Nice to meetcha.  So, why are you at this party if you didn’t want to come?”

Castiel allowed himself to be pulled through a wad of people and then to a loveseat in a room where the music was blaring even louder.  He didn’t bother to answer since he was certain Dean couldn’t hear him.  Dean plopped down onto the loveseat heavily, inadvertently yanking Cas with him.  His drink sloshed out onto the floor, but Cas didn’t mind; he didn’t plan on drinking more anyway.  He watched several people bounce and grind to a rhythm that didn’t quite match that of the pounding beat of the music, and he could feel that his face was scrunched up slightly in disgust.

Then Dean leaned into him and put his lips almost on his ear as he spoke to him.  Cas missed most of it, but he heard the word “Come” spoken in Dean’s deep voice.  His pants would totally be on fire if he said that he didn’t feel a pleasant tingling in his groin as a result—Dean was a good looking guy after all—but he didn’t feel any real attraction toward him.  So he turned his head and leaned close to speak in Dean’s ear.

“What?”

Dean tilted his head down and attempted to rub his ear against his shoulder, like he was trying to get something off of it.  However, he was smiling while he did it so Castiel didn’t take it personally and just assumed that his breath had tickled him.  Dean leaned back in.

“Why did you come?”

Cas once again spoke directly into his ear, but maintained a little distance.  He was going to feel like he was having a conversation on a boat if they both had to keep leaning into each other.

“My boyfriend is the new small forward on the basketball team.”

Dean bobbed his head in understanding.

“Why are you here?” Cas asked, mostly because he felt it was the proper reciprocal social convention in this situation.

“My friend is roommates with a team member.  He—the team member—wanted to bring his girlfriend, so he told Benny he had to bring someone to get into the party because it was a Handcuff Party.”

“A Handcuff Party?  Again, what is the point?”

“You have to drink a certain number of drinks to be released, and then you can choose someone else to be handcuffed to.”

“Well, my friend, you are shit outta luck tonight, then.”

Dean grinned.  “Why?”

“Because I’m done drinking.  That stuff in the keg is terrible.”

“Uh, yeah.  It’s supposed to be.  What are you expecting?  Artisanal crafted microbrews?”

“Just something that costs more than twenty bucks a keg.”

Dean laughed.  “Okay.  So, if I’m stuck with you, let’s see if we can tolerate each other.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at him and Dean just kept his cheeky grin in place.

“Preferred decade of music?”

“Eighties.”

Dean made a horrified expression.

“Eighteen hundred eighties, that is.”

Dean’s brow creased.  “Not sure if that’s better or worse.”

“Trust me: better.  You?”

“Seventies, man.  Some good rock came out of that decade.”

Cas leaned away and lightly shook his arm like he was trying to shake loose his attachment to Dean.

“Ugh, please don’t tell me you’re going to sit here and praise the Rolling Stones and tell me Mick Jagger is your idol.”

Dean let out a loud bark of laughter and yanked Cas back closer by their joined arms.

“Fuck the Rolling Stones.  I’m talking about Zep, man.”

Cas rolled his eyes.  “That’s almost worse.”

“What?!”

“Come on, Dean.  About a third of their songs are not good.  A third are only good if you’re high while you listen to them.  And the other third that are kind of okay songs…”

Cas paused enjoying the increasingly scandalized and murderous expression contorting Dean’s features into something more hilarious than scary.

“Plagiarized.”

“You take that back!”

Cas just smirked at him.

“Take it back!”

Cas squealed—and God would he never live that down—as Dean’s hands found his sides and it became apparent that he was very ticklish.  Dean wouldn’t let up until he had screamed “uncle” three times.  By the time he was allowed to sit up, his abs hurt from laughing so much.  They settled calmly on the loveseat, their impromptu tickle fight going unnoticed by the partygoers around them.

“Okay,” Dean said, leaning back in to speak in his ear.  “AC/DC.”

Cas nodded.  “Yes, I like them.”

Dean sighed in relief.  “Well, thank God for that.  What kind of car do you drive?”

Cas snorted.  “It’s an ’89 Subaru GL; I’m not sure it actually still qualifies as a car.”

Dean laughed.  “The clunker your parents bought for you when you turned sixteen?”

Cas nodded.

“Heh, yeah,” Dean commiserated.  “My first was a minivan.”

Cas smiled at the thought of Dean behind the wheel of a minivan.

“It wasn’t all bad though.  Take the backseats out, throw in a few pillows and blankets, and you’ve got yourself a mobile sex room.”

Cas made a face.  “Ew.  I would never have sex in the back of a minivan.”

Dean grinned and leaned forward.  “That’s because you’re a classy guy.  I can tell.”  He tapped Cas’ cup with his lightly.  “Now drink your cheap beer.”

Cas smiled, but obeyed the order.  It didn’t taste as bad as the first round, but not by much.  He never did find out how many drinks were needed to get untied from Dean.  The two of them never got another drink as they stayed on the loveseat and talked.  After the initial obligatory “get to know you” questions that made them realize they didn’t have a ton in common, they discovered they were both clandestine gamers on World of Warcraft.  Castiel had never had a three hour conversation with someone about the RPG game that didn’t take place online.  It was nice to know those people “out there” were in fact made of flesh and blood too.

As Zeke escorted him back to his dorm, he repeated Dean’s username over and over again in his head so that he wouldn’t forget it before he could get to his computer and logon and find him.  Zeke nudged him gently with his shoulder.  Castiel looked up and smiled at his boyfriend.

“What?”

“Thanks for coming,” Zeke said softly.  “I know you didn’t want to…”

“That’s okay.  When we get back to my room, I’m going to make you kiss me in public.”

Zeke spluttered for a moment, and then ducked his head as he blushed.  Cas smiled.  He liked flustered boys.

“Did you at least have fun?” Zeke asked after he recovered.  “I hope you weren’t zip tied to someone awful.  I know you wouldn’t drink enough to get cut loose.”

“Actually, it was great.  I met another gamer.”

“Hm.”

“Don’t make that noise.  You don’t have to talk about it or play it.  Be happy I found someone to geek out with over it that’s not you.”

“Small favors, I guess.  But now are you going to be stuck indoors even more?”

“ _No_ ,” Cas said with plenty of attitude, side-eyeing his smirking boyfriend.  “In fact, we’re going to meet up for lunch on Monday at the University Center.  Turns out we both have classes that end at one nearby.”

“Do I know him?”

“Hm, probably not.  He’s a friend of the roommate of one of your teammates.  His name is Dean.”

“Is he cute?”

Cas let out a small laugh.  “Understatement.”

He winced internally as he saw Zeke’s head turn quickly toward him.  That wasn’t the best thing to say to your honey bear.

“Should I be jealous?” Zeke asked lightly.

Cas linked his arm with Zeke’s and smiled up at him.  “Yes, by all means.  Get all protective and possessive.  It’s a huge turn on.”

“Cassss,” Zeke murmured softly, his skin clearly turning red even in the poor lighting provided by the lampposts on the path they walked on.  Then his eyes darted to Cas and away.  “Seriously though…”

“Nah,” Cas said.  “Just a guy.  Also, I think he might be straight.  Though I wouldn’t bet my life on it.”

Zeke hummed and then suddenly stopped walking.  He pulled Cas in tightly against him.  They stood at the back of their dorm building, hidden from view by the woods behind them and the dumpsters parked just to their left.  It wasn’t a terribly romantic location, but it didn’t matter as Zeke finally took some initiative and kissed Cas like he actually liked doing it.  Cas smiled when it was over and looked up into Zeke’s eyes.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said softly.

 

And there was nothing to worry about—not that Castiel had even been worried.  He and Dean met for lunch on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays after their classes for the remainder of the semester.  They mostly talked about gaming (quietly so no one would overhear them) and the occasional conversation about their studies and extracurricular activities.  They went to home basketball games together so that Cas could support Zeke, and Dean could support his girlfriend who was a cheerleader.  Though he suspected Dean was there to support the entire squad.

At the end of the year they agreed to text each other occasionally over summer break as they lived in different states, but they weren’t too worried about keeping in touch.  Now that they were sophomores, they could choose their own roommates and Castiel was ready to drop Ion.  Dean hadn’t had much luck with his roommate either, so they agreed to room together the next year.

Their first semester together had been a tempestuous clashing of wills as Dean was much neater than Cas had anticipated and Cas refused to acknowledge the “sock on the door” messages that were left for him nearly every weekend.  Eventually Dean stopped bringing girls over (Cas supposed he went to their rooms instead) and Cas stopped leaving his clothing and cereal bowls all over the room.  By the time the basketball team’s annual Handcuff Party came around at the beginning of the spring semester, they were suitably acclimated to each other with only the occasional gripe if someone’s alarm went off too early on a weekend.

Castiel told Dean what time he would meet him at the party and arrived on the arm of his boyfriend who had been promoted to power forward as a starter.  Zeke had been so excited at the news, he’d gone down on Cas in an empty classroom in the Tyler Building.  The building that mainly hosted history classes was the least trafficked building on campus, but it had still been incredibly public for someone like Zeke who had only just the previous summer agreed to start sharing mutual handjobs with his boyfriend.

Cas couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased with the change—it meant that he and Zeke could now hold hands as they walked across campus together—but it had also occurred to Castiel that day that Zeke was much more passionate about basketball than he was about his boyfriend.

“Hey roomie,” Dean called out as they mounted the steps to the house together.  Dean had brought along Benny.  Or maybe Benny had brought along Dean again.  The bass from the sound system was making the porch floorboards vibrate.

“Hello, Dean.  Did you get your paper back?”

“Oh, God, don’t make him start again,” Benny sighed.

Dean shot him a dirty look and then beamed at Cas.  “Totally aced it.”

“That’s great!  Maybe now I can get some sleep at night rather than listening to some weird blanket pile mutter at his computer monitor.”

Everyone laughed at Dean’s expense and he frowned at them as he let himself inside the house.  They were accosted by the team members manning the door.  Zeke was immediately tied to one of the cheerleaders who had been waiting inside, and Benny put himself right next to her friend so that he could be tied to her.  Dean and Cas were attached at the wrist and sent on their way.

This year they avoided the kegs and dug through the ice chests to find the semi-drinkable canned beer at the bottom.  Cas’ hand was freezing after digging through the pile of ice, and Dean tucked it under his armpit, which might have grossed him out with someone else, but after living with Dean he knew how clean both he and his clothing were.  Of course, with his left wrist tied to Dean’s and his right stuck under his arm, they probably looked like they were doing some awkward middle school dancing.

Cas held his beer in his left hand and had to drag Dean’s hand to his face every time he took a sip; Dean held his in his left hand and had to stand near to Cas so that he could bend his arm close enough to his face to take a sip without letting Cas’ other hand slip out from underneath his arm.  Castiel was certain they looked ridiculous, but they felt comfortable around each other, so they really didn’t care.

“You know,” Dean said after a couple minutes of comfortable silence, “it’s weird.”

“What?  Trying to drink with half an arm?”

“No.  Well, yes, that too.  But like, this is the first semester—since like freshman year of high school—that I haven’t had a girlfriend or a boyfriend.  It’s like…I keep thinking there’s somewhere I need to be or something to do, but I’ve got no one to be responsible for.  I have no idea what to do with myself.  Maybe start a new character in Warcraft or something.”

“Or…you could concentrate on your studies.”

Dean shrugged.  “I get good enough grades.”

“I know.  But, I feel like you’re not taking classes that really interest you.  You’re going to have to declare next year.  Don’t you want to do a major that holds your interest?”

“That’s a good sentiment and all, but isn’t it just as important to major in something that can help you get a job later?”

“Not necessarily.  Most people don’t even wind up working in the same field that they studied in college.”

“Then what’s the point of college?”

“Keggers and homosexual experimentation?”

Dean laughed.  “Already done both of those.”

“Hm.  Better drop out then.”

Dean scoffed.  “My mother would murder me.  Slowly.  With a shrimp fork.”

Cas smiled.  “How about engineering?  I mean, that’s why most people come to this school anyway, for the engineering program.  And you like to make stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s that kind of engineering.”

“It can be.  Civil engineering builds bridges.  And mechanical engineering builds mechanical things.”

“Wow, Cas.  You really know your shit.”

“Shut up.  Just think about it.”

Dean shrugged noncommittally.

“Guys!” a drunken, very tall basketball player said as he stumbled into them, toting along a teeny, tiny girl who was zip tied to him.  “Beer pong!  Beer poooooooooooooong!”

He took off and Dean grinned after him.  He turned to look at Cas.

“No,” Castiel said.

“Come on, please, Cas?  One round.”

Cas sighed dramatically, but allowed himself to be pulled into the living room.  Four rounds later he was pretty blitzed, which is why he didn’t question it when Zeke came around and cut him free from Dean.  They stumbled upstairs to someone’s room and had real sex for the first time.  He did manage to make it back to his dorm that night so that he didn’t have to do the walk of shame in the morning.  Dean was still up and looking over the course catalog for the fall semester on his computer monitor.

“Hmm, engineering courses,” Castiel said with only the tiniest of slurs in his voice.

Dean quickly minimized the window and turned to him with a scowl, which then morphed into a grin as he took in Cas’ disheveled appearance.  Cas flopped on his bed and Dean leaned over the back of his chair.

“You slut.  You totally gave it up,” Dean teased.

Cas tossed a pillow at him put it was off target by a good five feet.

“Hush.”

“Was it good?”

“S’alright.”

“Just alright?”  Dean asked incredulously, trying not to laugh.

“I mean, it was good, of course.  Just…sometimes I get the feeling Zeke imagines I’m Lebron James or something.”

Dean snorted out a laugh.  “Dude.  I’ve seen you naked.  You ain’t Lebron James.”

“Shut up, you ass.  I mean like…so, Zeke and some of his teammates spent the whole night talking strategy rather than partying or drinking.  They’re excited about this week’s coming game because it’s a rival and they’ve worked out an awesome game plan.  That’s why he was horny.  Because of basketball.”

“Not gonna say that’s not a little weird.”

“It’s not weird.  I mean, when you’re passionate about something and it gets you all revved up, why not convert that to sexy-time activities?  Especially when you have a super hot boyfriend?”

“Of course,” Dean said dryly at Cas’ self-assessment.

“But like…we like each other.  We really do.  But we’re not each other’s passion.”

“Dude.  You’re also not stars in a soap opera.”

“I know.”  He turned his head to look at Dean.  “So, I’m being overly sensitive, right?  I shouldn’t be expecting some great epic romance when I haven’t even been alive for a full two decades yet.  Right?”

“I guess, dude.  But, come on, do you really want a ‘great epic romance?’”

“I do.  And so will you.  Someday.”

“You are so drunk.  Sleep it off, man.”

“Okay.  Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“You want to room together next year?  I have to stay on campus because of finances and stuff.”

“Yeah, sure.  We’ll both have better shots at good lottery numbers, so maybe we’ll get a good—” Dean cut off when he heard the soft snores.  He shook his head and turned back to his computer, smiling.

 

The beginning of junior year found Dean grappling with a heavy course load and playing catch up with the kids that had started their engineering track freshmen year—but he loved it.  He’d spent the summer rebuilding his dad’s old ’67 Chevy, and teaching Cas about cars when he’d visited for two weeks.  Dean had also spent a couple of weeks feeling small and lost when he’d visited Cas in Chicago.  The city had just been too big for him, but even though he’d felt a little overwhelmed, he’d enjoyed the trip since he’d been able to hang out with Castiel.

He especially appreciated their time together over the summer since they currently barely saw each other due to their class schedules.  Cas was buried up to his ass in religious tomes and biology books.  He wasn’t sure how he was planning on incorporating his knowledge of world religions and the occult into his plans to become a doctor, but he supposed all doctors needed a hobby.  As a result of their inconvenient schedules, they made a point to spend time together whenever they could.  Things got a little better in the spring semester, but they found that most of their time together was spent quizzing each other for their classes.  Dean felt like he could probably score pretty decently on the MCATs after all the secondhand studying he’d done with Cas.

At the moment, Dean was lying on his bed, proofreading Cas’ English essay on his tablet while Cas sat at his desk and looked over Dean’s work for his homework for his Thermodynamics: Heat and Energy course.  He caught a typo and corrected it himself.  He’d just email it back to Cas with his corrections and comments rather than Cas having to do it himself.

“This is really good, Dean,” Cas said, breaking the companionable silence between them.  “Your short answer and design is really ingenious.”

“Please, it’s not that innovative.  I’ve stolen most of the ideas and just put them together differently.”

“Yeah, but you saw how they could go together differently.”

“I guess.”

“You should be proud of yourself,” Castiel said, turning in his chair so he could look at him.

“I am.  I mean, this shit is a lot harder than that gen course stuff I was doing before, but I’m maintaining my grades and I feel more focused.  I guess I’m…I don’t know…”

“Actually interested in it?”

“Yeah, probably.  Although, I’m probably more focused because I still don’t have a girlfriend or something pulling my attention away.  I mean, it’s a great feeling and all, but I can’t deny that I miss the sex.”

Cas chuckled.  “Yeah.  Me too.”

Dean turned his head to look at him and gave him an obnoxious smile.  “Zeke holding out on you?”

Cas tilted his head, confused.  “No, Zeke and I broke up.”

Dean’s eyes widened.  “You did?”

“Yeah, like months ago.  Didn’t I tell you?”

Dean wracked his memory.  “Um…probably.  Man, I’m sorry, I—”

“Nah, it’s cool.  It was totally a non-issue.  It’s probably why you didn’t notice.  Like, it just became more of a chore than a pleasure to make time to see him.  I think it was the same for him.  Plus he was also like, ‘I don’t think you’re interested in me anymore.’  Can you believe that?  He’s totally wrapped up in basketball and he says that my attention is focused elsewhere.”

“Focused where?”

Cas shrugged.  “He didn’t say anything specific.”

“Maybe he meant your classes?”

“Maybe.  I did enter hardcore MCAT study mode last semester.”

“Don’t remind me,” Dean groaned.  “Thank God you’re done with that finally.  This is the first week we’ve been able to hang out in like, forever.”

“We hang out basically every day, Dean.”

“No, we were in the same room together.  Now we can actually enjoy each other’s company.”

“I always enjoy your company,” Castiel said over-sweetly.

Dean rolled his eyes and chucked a rolled up ball of socks at him.

“Hey, ew!  Those are used!”

“I know!  You left them on _my_ bed, you jerk.”

“Oh, yeah!” Cas perked up.  “I didn’t mean to, honestly.  I just got a phone call while I was changing and forgot them there.  Professor Visyak called to tell me that the grant came through.  So, she wants me to help with her research this summer and she’ll let me stay in the apartment over her garage.  She said she can swap out the double for two twins and that you’re more than welcome to stay there if you want to finish up those core requirements during the summer session.  That way you won’t have to pay to stay in a dorm.”

Dean sat up.  “Are you serious?  She’ll let us stay for free?”

“The board is part of my stipend for helping her with the research.  And she said as long as we don’t throw any wild parties, two boys make no more difference than one.”

“Sweet.  Count me in.  I’d love to be able to lessen my course load for senior year.”  Dean gave Cas a snarky smile.  “But will we survive it?  We lived together all junior year, we’ll live together all summer, and then all senior year too.  Not worried we’re going to get sick of each other?”

“No,” Cas said simply and turned back around to finish looking over Dean’s homework.

Dean snorted in amusement at Cas’ easy declaration.  Well, Dean wasn’t worried about it either.

 

Dean and Cas were the only seniors on their hall.  They might actually be the only seniors in the whole building.  What few seniors remained in campus housing for their final year chose to live in one of the “fancy” lodges that were situated at the heart of campus.  However, they would have had to have found five to six other roommates to live with them in the multi-room lodges.  Dean’s and Cas’ circles of friends had very little overlap.  They were content to stay in the nicest upperclassmen dormitory though, just the two of them sharing a room.  It made things easy.

“Let’s go, Cas!” Dean called out as he held the door open with a foot and leaned out into the hallway.

Cas tapped his highlighter on his textbook and held back his sigh.  He _was_ hungry.  He closed his book and then slipped on his shoes as he grabbed his wallet.  He exited the room and Dean locked it behind them.  They made their way over to the new cafeteria that was built where an old parking lot had been.  The large building was incongruous with their three years’ worth of memories about the campus, but having another dining option was worth the weird feeling.

Cas hit up the cereal and salad bars while Dean made a sandwich, throwing some chips on the side, and then loaded a plate with pasta.  They made faces at each other’s dinner choices.  One of their few mutual friends, Charlie, was sitting at a table by a window, reading a book.  They crashed her solo dinner with zero guilt.  She smiled at them after she recovered from her mild heart attack.

“Hey guys.  You hear about the party the basketball team is planning this year?”

“Handcuffs?” Dean asked dryly.

“Nope ABC.”

Dean and Cas exchanged looks.

“What’s that?” Cas asked.

“Anything But Clothes.”

Dean laughed and Cas shook his head.  Then he shook his head at Dean.

“No.”

“Aw, come on, man.”

“No.  Besides, you have to be invited to those things.”

“Well, you know someone who can get us in.”

“Oh, yeah, let me just call up my ex and ask if wants to extend an invitation to us.”

Dean shrugged a shoulder.  “You guys are still kind of friends, right?”

“Kind of.”

“Oh!  Hey, hey!” Charlie started waving her arms wildly in the direction of the main service line.  A pretty girl with dark hair spotted her and gave an acknowledgement with a nod of her head since her hands were occupied with her tray.  She made her way through the light crowd and sat down at the table with them.  Dean scooted closer to Cas to make room for her.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” Charlie replied.  “Guys, this is Dorothy.  She’s in my statistics class and is totally a new member of the LARPing Club.”

“Well, maybe,” Dorothy said.

Dean laughed.  “Maybe means yes to Charlie.”

Charlie gave him a look, but kept smiling.  “Trust me, you’ll love it.  Anyway, this joker that thinks he’s clever is Dean.  He’s a closeted LARPer.”

Dean smiled at Dorothy, but didn’t refute Charlie’s completely inaccurate introduction because his mouth was full.

“And this is his boyfriend, Castiel.”

Cas choked on his drink and the pasta Dean had been swallowing got caught in his throat.

“He’s majoring in religion and is pre-med.  I think that’s how you become a witch doctor.”

Dorothy laughed and Dean finally got his food swallowed.

“Whoa, hey, Charlie.  Don’t lie to the girl.”

“I don’t think Cas is really going to be a shaman or something.”

“No, I mean, about…us.  We’re not…”

“We’re not dating,” Cas said.

Charlie looked genuinely surprised.  “You’re not?”

“No,” Dean said firmly.

“Are you sure?”

Cas laughed and glanced at Dean.  “Yeah, I think we would know.”

“But…you’re always together.  I mean, _always_ together.  And on the rare instances you’re not, the only thing you talk about is each other.  And, you wear each other’s clothes.”

Dean glanced at Cas and saw that he was wearing one of his flannel over shirts; he already knew he was wearing Cas’ AC/DC T-shirt.

“And you eat off each other’s plates.”

Cas paused as he crunched into the chip he’d stolen off of Dean’s plate.  Dean looked at the pile of marshmallows he’d fished out of Cas’ Lucky Charms sitting on the corner of his sandwich plate.

“And, geezus guys, the way you two look at each other…”

Dean and Castiel stiffened.  Charlie stopped talking.  She attempted a small smile.

“Well, sorry.  I didn’t mean anything by it.  I just honestly thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.  I guess it only matters what’s true.  My bad.”

The table fell silent as Charlie and Dorothy awkwardly ate their food and Dean and Cas stared at their plates, deep in thought.  Charlie and Dorothy eventually started up a conversation, and when everyone was finished eating they took their trays to the return area and walked outside.  It was still fairly light out and Charlie checked her watch.

“So, they’re screening _Avengers_ on a big screen at the Quad tonight at eight.  Do you guys want to go?”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” Dorothy said.

“We’re in,” Dean said, realizing he was speaking for Cas—making them a unit, like he normally did—a moment later.

“Great.  I’m going to go get a blanket from my room.  Dorothy, you wanna come with?”

“Sure.”

“Cool.  We’ll see you guys there.  Go to the side away from the road.”

“Okay, see you there,” Dean said.

Charlie and Dorothy took off and Dean turned to Cas.  He didn’t look upset or perturbed or even confused.

“You want to get some towels or something to sit on?” Cas asked.  “I don’t want bugs crawling all over me.”

“Yeah, sure.  Let’s go.”

They turned and started walking back to their dormitory.  Dean glanced at Cas.  He looked over and caught his eye.  Cas smiled, and then reached out and took Dean’s hand.  Dean smiled back and faced forward as they laced their fingers together.  They walked hand in hand down the sidewalk, tacitly comfortable with the “new” dynamic of their relationship.

“Two best friends falling in love—now that is a great epic romance.”

“You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?” Dean sighed, and then gave Cas a wink.

 

**2\.  Crush on Friend's Sibling – Destiel – Mature**

 

_Warnings: use of roofies (not Dean/Cas)_

 

When Castiel was five years old, he witnessed one of the greatest feats of daring and strength ever accomplished by a human.  A fifth grader—he couldn’t have been more than ten years old—climbed to the tip-top of the jungle gym on the Big Kids playground.  Boys and girls from both playgrounds whooped and hollered as they watched this mighty giant let go with his hands and stand up on two feet.  Castiel and the other Little Kids wrapped their pudgy fingers around the chain link fence separating them from the Big Kids.  This brave boy was skinny with a head of bright blond hair and looked like a god as he roared his victory.

Then the whistle blew.  Kids scattered even though they knew it wasn’t for them.  One of the fourth grade teachers marched over from the sidewalk.  Castiel remained at the fence even as his classmates ran back to the tiny jungle gym on their side of the fence.  The teacher stopped at the foot of the jungle gym and put her hands on her hips.  The boy copied her and grinned down at her.

“Dean Winchester!  Get down from there this instant!”

 _Dean_.

Castiel remembered the name even after he had forgotten the name of half his classmates when he had new ones the next year.  Dean had moved onto middle school, so there was no way for Castiel to ever get another glimpse of him.  By the time Castiel reached middle school, Dean would be gone to high school.  He was happy with the memory he had of the glorious spring day when he’d seen the impossible made possible by one soul that shone just a little brighter than all the rest.  He knew he would never see him again, and that was okay.

Until he made friends with a kid named Sam in fifth grade.  Sam was already ten, but Castiel’s birthday wasn’t until July, so he was still nine years old.  He was always the youngest in his class by far, but at least he wasn’t the littlest.  Sam never held his age against him; they were only two months apart anyway.  And now that his father was back from his tour overseas, Sam was going to be able to have his birthday party.  Castiel thought Sam was a very good kid to be willing to wait two whole weeks to have his birthday party.  It was going to be a _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ party, which Castiel didn’t think was as cool as _Pokémon_ , but it was Sam’s birthday.

Of course when he arrived and received his party hat, he couldn’t care less what the theme of the party was.  It had never occurred to him that his friend Sam Winchester might be related to Dean Winchester.  But here he was, snapping the elastic strap into place under Castiel’s chin.  He smiled as he righted the hat on top of Castiel’s head.

“Party’s that way,” he said and sat back down on the stairs to wait for more of Sam’s friends to show and give them their party favors.

Castiel stared at him.  He looked different.  He was fourteen.  _Fourteen_.  A teenager.  He was basically grown up.  Castiel felt that being almost ten made him a Big Boy…but he was still a baby compared to Dean.  His hair was still blond, but it was a little darker.  He wore it kind of long, kind of like Sam’s.  He wondered if Sam was copying his big brother.

Dean sensed he was being stared at and looked up.  He had green eyes.  Castiel had always wondered what color his eyes were.  He couldn’t ever picture it.  Green made a lot of sense.

“Uh…you need the bathroom or something?  It’s down that hall.”

Castiel shook his head.  He couldn’t speak.

“Well, uh, Sam’s out back on the porch.  With the other kids.  And the cake and presents and stuff.  You can go by yourself.”  Dean made a funny expression.  “You _can_ go by yourself, right?”

“You climbed to the tip-top of the jungle gym,” Castiel blurted out.

Dean cocked his head.  “What?” he asked with a small laugh.

“In fifth grade.  You climbed to the top of the jungle gym on the Big Kids playground.”

Dean gave him an odd smile.  “Yeah, probably.  I guess a lot of kids did.”

“Not to the tip-top.  And not letting go and standing up on two feet.  No one else ever has.  Some tried.  Garth Fitzgerald broke his arm trying.”

Dean grinned.  “Really?  I hold the jungle gym record or something?”

Castiel nodded.

“Hunh.”  Dean’s eyes looked him over.  “What’s your name?”

“Castiel.”

“Castiel.  Weird name.  Let me guess, you have an older brother named Inias and an older sister named Hester.”

Castiel tilted his head.  “How did you know?”

“All the Novaks have weird names.”

Castiel blushed and dropped his head.  He knew that no one else had a name like him, but he didn’t know that it was weird!  Dean must think he was a total loser.

“Hey, Cas, that’s not a bad thing.  I mean, aren’t there like three kids named Sam in your class?”

Castiel looked up and nodded slowly.

“See?  Who wants a boring name like Sam when you have a cool name like Cas?”

Dean patted him on the arm and the point of contact warmed pleasantly.

“Alright then.  You better on head on to the backyard.  I think there’s a piñata.”

Castiel smiled, drank in one more long look at Dean, and then darted down the hall that led to the back porch.  He told everyone to start calling him Cas.  By the time he had his first day of middle school almost four months later, all of his peers knew him as Cas and his parents had given up trying to get him to use his full name (even though they always called him by it).

Cas became best friends with Sam after that day, and it wasn’t even entirely because he wanted to be close to Dean.  Sam was nice and smart and had just enough rebellion in him that he could convince Cas to cause some mischief with him, but nothing too serious.  They took many of the same classes and Cas followed Sam into the band.  Sam played trumpet and he did percussion.  Sam followed Cas onto the baseball team; he was a starting first basemen and Sam was a relief pitcher.  Cas had attempted wrestling; Dean held records and championships in the sport in high school, but after Cas had been accidentally choked unconscious on the first day of tryouts, he decided wrestling wasn’t for him.  Besides, he didn’t need to wrestle in order to go to Dean’s meets with Sam and cheer for him.

Cas and Sam hung out with Dean when they could.  Fortunately Sam idolized his brother slightly more than Cas did, so he never felt like he was forcing Sam to follow Dean around.  When Dean turned sixteen and got his license, he all but disappeared from their lives.  It was kind of heartbreaking, which was why he was thankful he and Sam had more in common than just Sam’s brother.  It also afforded them the time together that they needed to try to sort out all the weird crap that happened to them in the year between their twelfth and thirteenth birthdays.  Their voices, along with other things, dropped; they grew hair in inconvenient places; their joints ached when they grew several inches over the course of only a few months.  And while he had always known that it felt good when he touched his penis and he had a vague idea of what sex was—he finally discovered exactly what masturbation was and how incredibly awesome it was.  It also made him realize that his idolization of Dean Winchester had shifted into a crush.

Dean was in his senior year and would be heading off to college when Cas and Sam were just entering high school.  It sucked that he would never be able to walk the halls and accidentally brush shoulders with his crush.  If Sam were to be believed, it was an awesome feeling.  Plus, Dean wouldn’t be living at home anymore so he wouldn’t even be able to see him when he went over to Sam’s house.  Though he supposed it was probably for the best that the object of his masturbatory fantasies wasn’t someone he had to make eye contact with every day.  But he was going to miss hearing Dean’s deep, gruff voice and his obnoxious laughter as he pulled a prank on them.  He was going to miss seeing the shoulders broadened by wrestling practice and that spiky hair he wore so short now that it looked light brown instead of blond.  He wondered if Sam had intentionally grown his hair even longer because Dean had cut his.

He was there the day the Winchester clan packed up a small U-Haul trailer and hitched it to the back of the family car and drove Dean to Kansas State University.  The University of Kansas was really the better school and Dean had gotten in, but Cas suspected Dean chose Kansas State so that he could get out of Lawrence—even if it was only an hour away by car.  That was the last time Cas saw Dean in person for a long time.  Cas was never around when Dean was home for breaks, and Dean never came home over summer breaks, opting instead to work full time at the job he worked part time during the school year.

When Sam and Cas finally got their licenses, they drove Sam’s Dad’s old Chevy Impala on pain of death threatened by Dean if they messed it up.  At least, that was the message Sam passed on to Cas.  It was nice to have the freedom.  They no longer had to wait for the activity bus after their club meetings were over.  They could drive one town over to the adult store that didn’t card anyone who wanted to rent porn.  It was totally an outdated way to watch porn—on a DVD—but they never had to worry about clearing their Internet histories or crashing their laptops with viruses.  They also both benefited from the large backseat on more than one occasion as they always took turns of who got to sit back there with their date when they went to the renovated drive-in movie theater.

Cas’ first kiss with Meg Masters was back there.  Sam’s first handy with Amy Pond was back there.  Cas’ first attempt at giving a blowjob to Zeke Frakes took place against the trunk while Sam scored in the backseat with Sarah Blake.  No wonder Dean had always been out with this car after he had gotten his license.

It was during spring break of their senior year that Cas and Sam managed to convince their parents that they were responsible enough to make the hour and twenty minute drive from Lawrence to Manhattan and spend the night with a bunch of college kids.  It wasn’t Dean’s spring break, but it was his senior year of college and this would be their only chance to attend a college party as high school kids—and then brag about it on Monday morning.  Despite having driven farther before (without permission) with no problems, they nearly had an accident on their short, sanctioned trip up the highway.  They would definitely have had their driving privileges permanently revoked.  Or been murdered if they had wrecked Dean’s baby.

They made it to Dean’s off campus house that he shared with no less than five other boys just in time to be dragged out to a late showing of _Sucker Punch_.  Cas had enjoyed the fantasy of the movie—but it really had no plot to speak of.  Dean and his friends told him he had totally missed the point of the movie if he was looking for _plot_.  He’d been too embarrassed after that to hang out with them later that night and stayed hidden in Dean’s room until three in the morning when Dean and his roommate kicked him out to sleep on the pullout couch with Sam.

The next day, which didn’t start until well after noon, Dean took Sam and Cas on a tour of the campus.  Cas was still embarrassed from the previous evening and couldn’t even appreciate how beautiful Dean had become.  He was so tall and his shoulders and back so strong…well, he supposed he could appreciate those since he was trailing behind the Winchester brothers most of the time.  He did his best not to stare at Dean’s ass, but he’d never seen him in a pair of jeans that actually fit him before.  He looked good.  He looked comfortable with his body.  Cas tugged on the hem of his bulky sweater, thankful it was still chilly enough in late March to warrant him wearing it.

That night Dean and his friends were throwing a party to celebrate the “corruption of youth” as they called it.  Sam and Cas had rolled their eyes.  Like they’d never had beer or fooled around before.  He wasn’t sure if drugs were going to be involved, neither he nor Sam were into that scene, but he supposed he could always Just Say No.

Sam convinced him to ditch the ugly sweaters and put on the tight jeans and well-worn band tee he’d intended to wear as his “pick up hot college guys/girls” outfit.  Sam was wearing a muscle tee—and he kind of had some muscle, but not really—and low slung jeans, but he did look a little older.  Cas threaded a rivet studded black belt through the loops of the jeans and wondered if Sam would still want him to dress in his “maneater” clothes if he knew the man Cas wanted to eat was Dean.  He chuckled at his own thought as he carefully applied a barely there outline of eyeliner.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.  Just thinking about how you’d freak if you knew of my ulterior motives.”

Sam snorted.  “You mean how you came on this trip not to keep me company but to see my brother?”

Cas whipped his head around and stared horrified at his friend.  “You know?”

“Of course I know.  I’m your best friend.”

Cas gulped.  “Does he know?”

“No way.  He probably still pictures you in your dinosaur pajamas when he thinks about you.”

Cas frowned.

“But that’s why you’re wearing your sexy twink outfit.  Change his view of you.”

“It’s not a twink outfit.  Jesus.”  Cas fidgeted.  “Is he even into guys?”

“I think so.  At least, what I heard through the walls of our bedrooms wasn’t always breathy girl sounds.”

“He could have been alone.”

Sam made a face.  “Definitely wasn’t alone.”

Cas inhaled deeply, but it didn’t help to settle the rapidly increasing speed of his pulse.  Sam clapped him on the shoulder.

“Dude.  Relax.  It’s just Dean.”

“Yeah,” Cas let out a breathy laugh.  Just _Dean_.  The shining pillar of bravery and beauty that still made him feel like a five year old gazing up at the tip-top of the jungle gym.

Three hours later Sam was pleasantly buzzed and Cas was thoroughly smashed, hugging everything that crossed his path, including a very large football player’s girlfriend and the stair railing.  The music was loud and pervasive through the small house, and the laughing and talking and screaming filled every corner.  The house was absolutely stuffed to capacity and it was difficult maneuvering up the stairs to Dean’s room; luckily Sam was there to help him.  Sam let his friend collapse onto his brother’s bed and did his best to extract himself from Cas’ octopus arms.

“Just hang out here for like half an hour, then we’ll go back down.  Okay?  You drank too much way too fast.  Anymore right now and you’re going to start puking.”

“But I feel good.”

“I know, which is why I’m cutting you off.  Let your body process some of that.  I’m going to go find some pizza or chips or something for you to eat.  Need to soak some of that shit up.”

“Grab a Purple Nurple while you’re down there.  They taste like shit but they really do the trick.”

“Okay, Cas.  Just stay put, alright?”

“Okay.”

Cas did think that lying on the bed was better than standing at the moment.  He didn’t feel sick or dizzy, but there was no point in pressing his luck by standing up.  He strummed his fingers on his stomach and scanned the room.  Dean’s roommate’s half of the room was covered in posters of scantily clad women with anatomically impossible bodies straddling motorcycles and holding snakes.  Dean’s walls were bare.  There was a picture of the Winchester family in a frame on Dean’s desk, but other than a turntable, a box of vinyl, and some dirty clothes on the floor, there were no signs that Dean lived in the room.

It was very different from Dean’s room in the Winchester’s house.  That one held signs of Dean from the marks on the walls to the stains on the floor to the cluttered bookshelves that held more graphic novels than literary books.  One wall was completely covered in the paper coasters he’d collected from the various restaurants and bars he’d been to over the course of his life.  The farthest one was from New York City.  His bedspread was a dark blue and green geometric pattern that was still fluffy even after years of use and had a pleasant Dean smell about them even after they’d been freshly laundered.  Not that Cas had ever snuck into his room and flopped face first onto Dean’s bed like some kind of weirdo perv before.

Cas’ eyes tracked somewhat slowly to the door when he heard a knock.  He was jolted into a moment of clarity when he saw Dean standing in the doorway and quickly sat up.  The fuzziness of his drunkenness quickly descended again as he watched the boy—God, he was a man now—walk across the room and sit next to him on the bed.  He handed Cas a glass of water.

“How you doing, buddy?  Sam said you were throwing them back like a pro.”

Cas flushed slightly and took the glass of water.  “I can handle my liquor better than he can.  He’s not the best judge.”  He took a sip of the water as Dean laughed.

“That’s true.  He’s a total lightweight, huh?  Well, I trust you to know your own limits, but I just wanted to make sure you weren't up here puking in my bed.”

“No.”  Cas set the glass on the nightstand next to Dean’s bed and scooted forward, tucking one leg underneath himself to facilitate the movement.  Dean raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything as Cas put himself right into his personal space.

“Dean.  You know…I like you.”

“Yeah?  I like you too.”

“Don’t deliberately misunderstand me to brush me off,” Cas said.  He paused as his brain tried to process that that was what he meant.  He figured it came out right when he saw Dean’s face change to slightly guilty and then wholly wary.  “I _like_ you, Dean.  I’ve liked you for a long time and I like to think about your hands on me.”

“Shit,” Dean whispered just before he gulped noticeably.

“I’m not asking you to like me back.  I know you barely know me.  But…”  Cas licked his lips and Dean swallowed again.  “I want to touch you.”  He slid his hand onto Dean’s thigh and the man jumped.  “And I want you to touch me.”

Cas leaned forward and pressed their lips together.  Dean leaned back immediately, but Cas followed after him.  He lost his balance and they fell back onto the bed.  Cas’ brain had gone silent when he felt Dean’s lips for the first time—warm, full, soft—but the fall caused his legs to straddle one of Dean’s legs and his muscular thigh pressed against Cas’ groin.  Cas’ brain snapped back online and he gasped at the suddenly sexual contact—he hadn’t been prepared for that and he shuddered as he ground his hips down against Dean’s leg.

“Shit, shit,” Dean cursed and grabbed onto Cas’ hips.  Dean leveraged himself up and Cas sat back, still on Dean’s leg and moaned as his cock lost direct contact with that warm, thick presence between his legs.  Cas was panting and opened his eyes to look at Dean.  The man was staring at him with his lips slightly parted.  His pupils were dilated.  He dug his fingers into Cas’ hips.  Cas closed his eyes and started to lean forward to kiss Dean— _kiss Dean_ —again.

Dean demonstrated he’d lost none of his wrestling strength and lifted Cas off his leg and set him back on the bed.  Dean stood up and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling in a long, loud stream.

“Cas.  You’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk.  I know what I want.”  He leaned back on the bed and slightly spread his legs.  “You can have me.”

Dean let out a bark of laughter and suddenly Cas recognized the odd look on Dean’s face.  He felt sorry for Cas.  Or was embarrassed for him.  Cas sat up and drew his knees to his chest.  Dean gave him a condescending smile which Cas was certain was meant to be sympathetic.

“Cas.  I’m flattered.  Really.  You’re a good guy.  And smart.  And a good friend to my brother.  And you’re cute, alright?  You are.  And your eyes…well.  But…you’re still a kid, Cas.”

“I’m not a virgin,” Cas snapped.

“And that has nothing to do with anything, man.  You’re sixteen.  You’re—”

“And you’re twenty-one.  So what?  You think being at college, but still reliant on your parents, has really given you real world life experience and made you into a ‘real’ adult?”

Dean didn’t get angry.  He just smiled that irritating smile again.

“Cas, come on.  You’re my baby brother’s friend.  And I remember what it was like to be sixteen.  And I thought I knew everything too.”

“I don’t think I know everything.  I just think—”  Cas cut off.  He stood up and brushed past Dean.  “Sorry I bothered you,” he mumbled and hurried for the stairs.

“Cas, wait…”

Cas didn’t wait.  He ran downstairs until he found Sam.  He was making out with some chick named Madison.  So Cas found a nice college boy who didn’t give a fuck that he was jailbait and made out with him in the downstairs bathroom.  He refused to give him a blowjob though, so the guy led him back to the party and gave him a drink.  About twenty minutes later he felt the roofies kick in.  He was vaguely aware of being guided out the backdoor by at least three guys when suddenly there was shouting.  He was aware of being jostled around and then dropped off on a couch somewhere.

When he woke up the next morning with a headache that had nothing to do with a hangover, the embarrassment of what he’d done the previous night made it ten times worse.  He swallowed the pills that had been left for him on the coffee table along with a glass of water, and then followed his nose into the kitchen.  Two of Dean’s roommates were cooking eggs and bacon.  Sam was sitting at the table looking miserable while Dean teased him for being a lightweight.

“Come defend me, Cas,” Sam groaned when he spotted him in the doorway.  “You know I can drink.”

“You can definitely drink.  You just get drunk when you do.”

“Whatever.”

Cas let his eyes slide over to Dean.  He observed him with a neutral expression and then pushed out a chair with his foot.  Cas sat down in it, his hands in the pockets of a hoodie he didn’t remember putting on and knew wasn’t his.

“You get hung over?” Sam asked and made a face as a plate of bacon was set next to him.  He nudged it away with his elbow.  Dean picked up a slice in each hand and crunched into one as he kept his eyes on Cas.

“Not exactly,” Cas sighed.

He waited all through breakfast and while Sam was taking a shower for Dean to lecture him on being an idiot.  For accepting an open drink from someone he didn’t know.  Like a fucking kid who didn’t know any better.  But Dean didn’t bring it up, and Cas certainly wasn’t going to even though he felt like he owed Dean a thank you for saving him from what was undoubtedly going to turn into a gang rape.  He felt like such a child.  It was all he could do to be in the same room with Dean until finally he managed to convince Sam that they had to get going.

Cas made it his mission in life to never see Dean again.  He never visited Sam’s house if there was a chance Dean might be home on break.  He didn’t attend Sam’s high school graduation party at the Winchester house, and wouldn’t let his own family dawdle at the ceremony lest they accidentally run into them.  He went to college on the east coast and Sam picked a school on the west.  Their friendship tapered down to an email or text sent every couple of months.  Cas never went back to Lawrence once he had graduated—he’d discovered that Kansas was not enough of a world for him.

Even though he rarely talked to Sam and barely knew what was going on with his life, he still did manage to learn that Dean had become an EMT and literally saved lives for a living.  He lived in Kansas City on the Kansas side (a momma’s boy could never stray too far from home) and he read to children in the hospital in his free time.  Cas had managed to get over Dean eventually, but this kind of information reminded him why he’d worshiped the guy in the first place.  The reminder was usually pleasant, but always tinged with bitterness.

Cas was just finished with first semester finals for his senior year of college, doomed to be twenty and therefore below the legal drinking age for the duration, when his friend Balthazar asked him to drive across country during their winter break.  His brother needed his car and Balthazar had agreed to drive it three thousand miles to San Francisco in exchange for airfare to get back to the east coast.  Balthazar convinced Cas it would be fun and offered to split the cost of Cas’ plane ticket back.  Cas had weighed the pros and cons of staying in the bleak, grey frozen tundra that was Massachusetts in late December versus getting to spend a few days in sunny California.  They left the next day and didn’t even have their first cramped quarters argument until they were in Illinois.

Overall the trip wasn’t too bad.  Balthazar was pretty laid back and they were friends, but the trip took almost a week and by the end of it they were both convinced the designers of the 2007 Toyota Camry were sadists.  At some point on the long journey, he’d texted Sam to let him know he would be in the area soon.  Sam had replied that he would be in town because it was too expensive to fly home for breaks.  Cas suspected that Mary Winchester was not pleased about that arrangement, but even with scholarships helping out Stanford had to be draining their bank accounts.

Balthazar’s brother Bartholomew (and Cas thought _his_ parents were cruel) agreed to let Cas make the short drive from San Francisco to Palo Alto to visit Sam overnight.  Balthazar was more than happy to let him go off on his own as they both could stand to spend a little time apart from each other.  Cas was a little worried it might be awkward when he and Sam were together again, but as soon as they saw they each other (and Cas got over how fucking tall Sam was now) they threw their arms around each other in a bone crushing hug and fell right back into their easy companionship.

Sam took Cas all over campus and showed him his favorite haunts and the awesome library and the other almost as awesome library and the most awesome law library.  Cas teased him about his decision to apply to Stanford’s law school; it was usually discouraged for a student to do their undergraduate and graduate work at the same school and Cas told him he was being incestuous.  Sam had bitchfaced at him and dumped his half-full basket of fries onto the ground.  Cas was then introduced to one Ms. Jessica Moore and Cas deduced that Sam was looking to stay at Stanford because Jess was only a junior.  He wheedled and poked and prodded Sam all the way back to his off campus apartment until he finally confessed that he knew he was in love with her and wanted to marry her, but they’d only been dating a year so he was trying not to freak her out by confessing all of this to her too soon.

Cas grinned and put a hand on his shoulder as they stepped off the elevator.  “Dude, with the way she looks at you, I don’t think it would freak it her out.”

“You think so?”

“Uh, yeah.  Pretty sure.”

Sam’s smile would have made the sun appear dim.  Cas just shook his head at him.

“Sammy!”

Cas and Sam turned to look down the hall.  Waiting outside Sam’s door was Dean.

 _Dean_.

Cas’ heart leapt to his throat as Sam hurried forward to engulf his brother in a hug.

“Hey, Dean!  I didn’t know you were coming to visit.”

Dean shrugged.  “Baby needed to stretch her legs, so I thought I’d swing by and bring you your Christmas presents from Mom and Dad.”

“Sweet!  Have you been waiting long?”

“Nah, not really.  I tried calling, but you didn’t answer your cell phone.”

Sam blushed.  “Yeah, I left it at Jess’ and just got it back this afternoon.  The battery’s dead.”

Dean smirked at his brother.  “You do realize how lame it is that your cell phone spent the night at your girlfriend’s place and not you, right?”

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled.  He unlocked the door to his apartment and then turned to Cas and gestured at him.  “I have another visitor though so, sleeping arrangements will be interesting.  Dean, you remember—”

“Fuck me,” Dean said softly.

_Bend over and I’ll gladly fulfill that request._

Cas blushed at his thought.

“Cas.  Cas Novak.  Holy shit, man.  It has to be like, what, four or five years?”

“Something like that,” Cas said and then cleared his throat of its hoarseness.

Dean’s half smile was a little awkward and he looked Cas up and down a couple times.  Then he said, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Sam chimed in, lowering his voice and imitating most likely Cas even though Dean’s voice was pretty low too.  “Geez, you guys trying to compete for who can sound the most like they smoke two packs a day?”

He laughed and let them into his apartment.  Dean stepped to the side and gestured for Cas to enter first.  Cas did so and suddenly got the feeling that Dean was checking out his ass.  He turned to look and just caught Dean’s eyes snapping back up.  Dean smiled at him and kicked the door shut with his foot.  He moved past Cas into the kitchen and opened Sam’s fridge like he lived there too.

“You got any beer, Sam?”

“Yeah, it’s in the back.  Cas, you can put your bag here.  You can take the couch and Dean and I can share a bed.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dean said, hanging over the side of the open refrigerator door and popping the tab on a canned beer.

“Dude, come on.”

“You’re like eight and a half feet tall.  There’s no room.”

“You’ll survive for one night.”

Dean rolled his eyes and looked at Cas.  “You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

Dean dug back into the fridge and produced a can of Miller Lite.  Cas made a face at it as he caught it.

“Thought you had better taste than this, Sam,” he said.

Dean laughed and Sam flicked him off.

“Don’t drink it then.”

Cas popped the top and took a swig.  “Nah, free is free.”

Sam caught his own can and told Dean to close the refrigerator door already.  They settled down in the tiny living room, Sam and Dean making the couch look like a loveseat and Cas sat cross-legged in an oversized armchair.  The trio started up an easy conversation, sharing what they had been up to over the past few years.  Cas’ heart eventually calmed down and he even stopped being surprised every time he glanced at Dean and saw that he was only getting better looking with every year he aged.  The giddy feeling in his stomach never quite went away, but fortunately there was nothing stilted or awkward about the evening.

More than once Cas could have sworn he caught Dean checking him out.  When he stood up to get them more beers, when he stretched before heading into the bathroom.  There was also the fact that when they decided to watch a movie and eat take out, Dean and Cas wound up on the couch, sitting closer together than the brothers had.  Cas knew he was attractive; he knew he had definitely filled out from when he was a fairly effeminate teenager, but it was still a little shocking to be receiving that kind of attention from Dean Winchester.  If it wasn’t all in his head of course.

The couch was too short for Cas to fit on comfortably, but he slept well and enjoyed listening to Dean and Sam bitch at each other in the morning about stolen blankets, farting, and pointy elbows.  They decided to go spend the day in San Francisco, and Cas met them at the Ghirardelli store after he’d dropped off Bartholomew’s car.  Cas had never been to San Francisco before, so the brothers took him to see the seals and Lombard Street and Little Tokyo and they drove over the Golden Gate Bridge.  They ate dinner in some dive that Cas never would have ventured into on his own, but the food was excellent.

While Sam went to get his car out of the parking garage, Dean and Cas waited on the sidewalk with their hands in their pockets, rocking on their heels.  The silence stretched out until it started to get a little uncomfortable.  Cas figured he might as well take this serendipitous moment to thank Dean for helping him back when he’d been—dare he think it?—a kid.

“Hey, Dean…”

“Yeah?”

“Um.  I wanted to thank you.  For that night.  Um.  When Sam and I visited you in college?  And I…almost had a really bad night.  But, you sav—helped me.  And I never thanked you.”

Dean shrugged.  “Not something a person needs to be thanked for.  Just something they ought to do.”

Cas smiled and looked at his toes.  “Yeah, well, thanks anyway.”  He was happy that he now had confirmation that it had in fact been Dean who’d been doing all that yelling and rescuing.  His memories of the incident were fuzzy at best.  He’d actually begun to wonder if Dean hadn’t said anything the next morning because he hadn’t known what had happened to him.  But now he knew that Dean had saved him, and he remembered it too.  The happiness made him bold.  He looked up.

“So, it was really good catching up,” he said.

Dean nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we can exchange emails or something so we don’t have to wait four years to do it again.”

“I never check my email.  But, I can give you my number and you can text me.”

“Sure.”

Cas dug his phone out of his back pocket and unlocked it.  He pulled up the dialer and handed it to Dean.  He punched in the number to his phone and _Smoke on the Water_ began to play.  Cas smiled.  Now he knew why every time he heard that guitar riff he thought of Dean.  Dean handed him his phone back and saved the number while Dean saved Cas’ number in his phone.  They were spared trying to find another topic of conversation when Sam pulled up to the curb.  The Winchesters dropped Cas off at Bartholomew’s place and both promised to keep in touch.  He had a feeling he and Sam would be good about it for a few weeks, but they would probably resume their sporadic contact before long.

Dean—he had no idea how that would go.  He suspected he might never even hear from the guy.  Although Cas had asked for Dean’s info, so maybe he should be the one to text first.  He was saved the decision when he received a text from Dean while he and Balthazar were waiting at the airport for their flight.  They texted for forty-five minutes until he had to shut his phone off.  When he got back to his apartment, he took a chance and gave Dean a call to tell him he got in safely rather than text.  They talked for three hours.  Cas tapped the phone against his lips, feeling the hot battery on the sensitive flesh, after the call ended.  He decided not to stress about what it could all mean and just enjoy it for what it was.

Through January they spoke about once a week, but the conversations were so long Cas had to resort to plugging his phone into the wall on more than one occasion.  In February, they started texting daily and the phone calls became shorter but more frequent.  By the end of March, they spoke on the phone almost every day, usually before Cas went to bed because even with only one hour’s time difference it was difficult to speak earlier in the day since Dean worked overnight shifts.  He would call at nine o’clock Cas’ time, they’d speak for an hour, and then Dean would go to work while Cas went to bed so he’d be awake in time for his nine o’clock class in the morning.

“Do you like it?” Cas asked.  “Working overnight?”

“It’s like any shift: it has its benefits and its drawbacks.  But, I don’t mind taking the overnights because I live alone.  Some guys have husbandly duties to tend to at night, you know?”

Cas laughed.  “They can only have sex at night?”

“Well, I assume they can’t go do it at their wife’s place of work, so…”

“I see.  But what about the single guys?  It’s not like they don’t have their own needs.”

“True, but daylight, midnight—my hand don’t mind when I wake it up at odd hours for a little R&R.”

Cas giggled.  “I bet your hand just doesn’t say anything because it’s afraid of losing you.”

“No way.  It’s never had it so good as me.”

“Oh yeah?  Your cock that great, Dean?”

“You have no idea, Cas.”

“Then tell me.”

There was a pause and Cas bit gently on his lip as he listened for Dean’s reaction over the phone.

“It’s big, Cas.  Bigger than anything you’ve ever had.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Cas smiled and settled more comfortably on his bed.  He tapped his fingers on his stomach, but didn’t move them any farther south.

“Cut?” he asked.

“Yep.  Big head too.  Really tugs on the rim going in and out.”

Cas moaned softly and squirmed, trying to generate a little friction in his groin from his legs.  His hand slid down his T-shirt and toward the waistband of his boxer shorts.

“You always top, Dean?”

“Not always.”

Cas’ breath hitched as his fingers brushed the head of his dick.

“Do you like getting fucked, Dean?”

“I really do, Cas.”

Cas groaned louder and grabbed his shaft in his fist.  Dean swore on the other end.

“Are you touching yourself, Cas?”

“Y-yes.”  Cas moaned again and used his arm to push the boxer shorts off his cock.  With his stiff member free, he set up a nice, slow rhythm with his hand.  “You want me to stop?”

“God no.  Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m on my bed.”  He tucked the phone under ear and moved his other hand to his chest.  “I’ve got my underwear pushed down underneath my balls.  My shirt is pushed up above my nipples.”

“You playing with your nipples?”

“Yeah, I love it,” Cas groaned, pinching and twisting his left nipple.  “I love to have them sucked.”

He heard a soft grunt from Dean’s end.

“I’m fucking my hand, Dean.  I’m wet and hard and my hole is longing for some fingers.”

“So, do it.  Finger your pretty hole.”

Cas wriggled out of his boxers and then turned to his side so that he could lay his head on the phone and reach behind himself with his hand.  He drew one knee up to expose his hole and let his index and middle fingers play over the sensitive ring of muscle.

“Feels good, Dean.”

“Still fisting your cock, baby?”

Cas gasped at the jolt of pleasure the endearment gave him.  “Yes, yes, yes…God, Dean, I wish you were here right now.”

“Fuck, Cas…if I was there right now…I’d fuck you so hard you’d come untouched.”

Cas whimpered and quickened the pace on his cock.  He brought his other hand to his mouth quickly and sucked on the digits to get them wet.  Then he returned to fingering himself and let the tip of his middle finger slip inside.

“Deannnnn…Dean…I wish I could see.  I want to see your big cock.  I want to watch it come all over me.”

Dean groaned and now Cas could hear the tell-tale sounds of skin slapping skin on his end.

“You gonna come, Dean?  Pretend like you’re fucking me and come nice and deep and—”

Dean cursed loudly and hearing him grunt through his orgasm over the line made Cas fall over the edge of his own orgasm.  They panted in each other’s ears for a few moments, and then Cas rolled onto his back before rolling back to his side as he realized neither of his hands was clean enough to hold his phone.

“Mm.  Thanks for the goodnight story, Dean.”

Dean laughed.  “You are so weird.  Go to sleep.  I’ve gotta get cleaned up… _again_ …before I head into work.”

“G’night, Dean,” Cas murmured sleepily.

“Night, Cas.”

The following morning Cas had a panic attack about what he’d done.  He was convinced Dean would never speak to him again because they had crossed a line that had never even been broached as a topic before.  However, around the time Dean usually got off work, he texted to let him know the night had been pretty eventless and that he finally listened to that band Cas had recommended a few weeks back.  He told him they sucked.  Cas smiled at the message and was able to attend the rest of his classes with the knowledge that Dean at least didn’t hate him.  They spoke again that night, and the next, but neither brought up the impromptu phone sex nor did it happen again.  Cas couldn’t deny he was disappointed that they both decided to let it go, but that was better than losing Dean as a friend if things became too awkward.

In May, Cas received a graduation present from Dean in the mail: a frame for his diploma that Dean had hand carved.  Cas had been blown away by the gift and his friends all yelled at him for not telling them he’d been dating somebody long distance.  He didn’t bother to correct them, but making handmade gifts for other people didn’t mean “more than friends.”

After Cas had thanked him profusely for the gift over the phone that night, Dean casually mentioned that Sam was graduating the following week and that the whole Winchester family would be going out there to attend.  Cas casually mentioned that his sister lived not too far away in San Jose and that he was due for a visit.  Next week sounded as good as any.

With that thinly veiled plan to be in the same state at the same time in place, Cas contacted Sam and got himself invited to the graduation ceremony.  When Cas saw Dean in person for the first time in months, only the presence of Dean’s parents had prevented him from tackling Dean to the ground and licking his face like a puppy.  Not that that should be how he greeted him anyway.  As far he knew based on their phone conversations, they were still just friends.

John and Mary were thrilled to see him again and hugged him and interrogated him about his life right up until the ceremony began.  Dean had just sat next to him and smirked as he did nothing to curtail his parents’ relentless attention.

The main ceremony was short and sweet as each department then had their own ceremonies for the actual walking part—that way everyone didn’t have to sit through seventeen hundred names being called.  Even still it was pretty long considering Sam was a W and there were quite a few philosophy majors.  Afterwards Cas and the Winchesters waited for Sam outside while he talked with his professors and some fellow graduates, which turned out to be a boon for them as they were able to spend some time with the unfortunately overly punctual Jess without Sam around as a buffer.

By the time Sam joined them, Cas was certain that Mary Winchester was picking out wedding dates and considering their options for venues.  Sam got to pick what restaurant they went to for dinner, and John, Mary, Sam, and Jess piled into Sam’s car while Dean and Cas followed behind in the Impala.  It wasn’t until they were on the freeway heading up to San Francisco that Cas discovered the car was here because Dean had opted to drive the almost two thousand miles rather than fly.  Cas had laughed at him for most of the trip which made Dean scowl, but that only made him cuter.

When they parked in the lot at the restaurant, Dean told Cas to wait a moment before getting out.  He watched Dean watch his family enter the restaurant, and then the man turned to face him.

“What is it?” Cas asked.

“I just…”  Dean hooked a finger in Cas’ belt loop and easily slid him across the leather bench seat in his dress pants.  “I just couldn’t wait any longer to do this.”

Dean lifted his hand and put it behind Cas’ head, combing his fingers through Cas’ hair and drawing him in for a kiss.  Cas leaned into him and curled his fingers in Dean’s dress shirt.  They didn’t allow themselves to completely forget they were in a public parking lot in broad daylight, but the kiss was long and deep and filled with all the emotion neither had been willing to acknowledge was building between them for the last several months.  Then Dean pulled back and brushed his fingers through Cas’ hair just above his ear and smiled at him.

“So.  Now that you’ve graduated, do you have any plans?”

Cas licked his lips, still slightly dazed from kissing Dean.

 _Dean_.

“I was considering graduate school.”

“I hear the University of Missouri has great graduate programs.”

“I hear that school is in Kansas City.”

“You heard right.”

Cas laughed and reached up to brush the backs of his fingers against Dean’s cheek.  He turned into the touch and Cas turned his hand over so he could nuzzle into his palm.

“Dean.  You know…I like you,” Cas said softly.

Dean smiled a little sardonically and wouldn’t meet his eyes as he said, “I know.  I like you too.”

Cas’ heart soared—like he was standing at the tip-top of the jungle gym with no hands.


	4. Pretend Dating/Arranged Marriage

**Pretend Dating/Arranged Marriage**

1\.  Arranged Marriage - Destiel - Explicit

2\.  ABO: One Night Stand Results in Pregnancy - Destiel - Explicit

 

 

**1.  Arranged Marriage - Destiel - Explicit**

 

_Warnings: very mildly dubious consent; sex with an audience; canon character death (not Dean/Cas)_

 

Dean kept his back rigid as he sat in on the council meeting.  It concerned him that at twenty his father thought that he needed to be taking part in so many political and militaristic decisions.  He hoped it wasn’t because his father anticipated a premature death and that Dean would have to succeed him soon.  Regardless of the reason, Dean was prepared to do his duty and serve his father and his kingdom.  He liked to have as much fun as any youth his age, and he did miss chasing the maids around the keep in the spare time he no longer had, but making his father proud was a better feeling than any of those things.

The council was currently discussing the Kingdom of Earth’s precarious situation.  They were safe with the ocean to the west, but the three other kingdoms of the realm were antagonistic and imperialistic.

To the east, the Kingdom of Purgatory was shrouded mostly in mystery as they had never done more than skirmish with them along disputed borders in the Fog Forest.  They had sent one emissary into the kingdom years ago, and he had never come back.  Unreliable intelligence from the other two kingdoms told them that the land was presided over by a king who wanted to take over the realm not with an army, but with sabotage.  As a result Earth had increased inspections of imported goods and doubled the security along their borders.

To the south was the Kingdom of Hell.  It was ever in a roiling civil war between the deposed King Lucifer and the usurper currently sitting on the throne, Crowley.  There was no chance at diplomacy with them.  They were violent and greedy and had no desire but to conquer and subjugate.  Most of Earth’s militaristic resources were focused on repelling their advancing forces, which drew closer to their borders with every passing season.

To the north was the Kingdom of Heaven, which was mostly full of bureaucratic dicks, but they had vastly superior firepower and could not be ignored or dismissed.  Earth had been in failed diplomatic talks with the kingdom for years--decades—going back to Dean’s grandfather, King Henry.  However, Heaven hated Hell possibly even more than Earth did, which led them to the current council meeting where an emissary from Heaven was trying to convince them that the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

“I feel it is apparent that if we combined forces,” Naomi said, talking slowly like they were particularly stupid primary children, “that it would be easy to defeat Hell’s advances and cripple their infrastructure in such a way as to leave them incapable of even contemplating another war for decades.  Our show of unity and strength will also give Purgatory something to consider.”

“I understand the benefit for you of Earth helping to defeat Hell,” King John said gravely, “but we won’t play games here.  We know that we outman you five to one, but your weapons are far superior.  What guarantee do we have that after we help rid you of the resource drain that is your war with Hell that you won’t turn those resources on us and try to annex us into your ‘paradise?’”

“A valid concern,” Naomi responded.  “We realize our history would suggest that our ultimate goal would be to dominate the entire realm.”

“Kind of like Hell,” Dean muttered, but everyone heard him.  He froze, fearful he had ruined the negotiations, but the other council members made noises of agreement and Naomi put up placating hands.

“Not quite like Hell, I hope the differences are clear, but like I said: we understand your concern.  We also know that you are aware that we would never attack or undermine one of our own.”

“Yes, we are aware of the loyalty among your own kind,” King John said, “but we are not of your kind.”

“Which is why we are proposing a treaty that would not only unify our armies, but our kingdoms.  We are proposing a marriage.  A _royal_ marriage.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow.  No one had ever seen the royal family of Heaven except for their King Consort Michael who wielded a flaming sword on the battlefield and was a gruesome foe.  The rest of the family was cloistered away.  He assumed a wedding would mean at least one of them would have to be seen by other people.  That could be interesting.

“Are you suggesting I marry one of the Queen God’s children?” King John asked with a dubious voice.

Dean shifted in his seat.  His beloved mother and passed years ago, but the thought of his father marrying someone else just didn’t seem right.  It was already bad enough that one of his consorts had borne him a bastard son.  Though Dean couldn’t be too upset by it because he did love Adam.

“A royal cannot marry someone who is not of the same rank.  In our culture.  We highly doubted that you would be willing to be the Queen God’s fourth King Consort.”

“You were right to doubt it,” King John said dryly and everyone except Naomi chuckled.

“Of course.  So, we are proposing that one of your sons marry one of the Queen God’s children.  The bastard, of course, is not an option.”

Dean clenched his hand into a fist and saw the skin around his father’s mouth and eyes tighten.  Adam was family no matter the status of his birth, and people didn’t talk shit about King John’s family and get away with it.

“Your youngest son we’ve learned is a great scholar and most likely will be dedicated to the Magical Orders and therefore will be ineligible to assume the throne, according to your kingdom’s own laws.”

Dean’s jaw dropped as he finally did the math.

“It is preferable that the marriage be between the Queen God’s progeny and the prince who will be king one day, thereby making a royal member of the Kingdom of Heaven a co-ruler.  It would be against our laws to ever act duplicitously against the family, land, and people of one of our own.  Therefore we propose this union of our two kingdoms to be forged through the marriage of the Queen God’s child Castiel and Prince Dean of Earth.”

There was some awkward shuffling as the council members tried not to look at Dean or whisper to each other.  Dean looked at his father—he looked serious, and not at all surprised.  Dean’s heart clenched in his chest.

“We will need some time to consider this offer,” King John said.

“I understand,” Naomi replied smoothly.  “However, I must begin my return journey home in the morning.  I will need an answer to take back with me.”

King John nodded.  “You’ll have your answer in the morning.  Jo?  Will you please escort Naomi back to her chambers?”

The page nodded and held the door open for the emissary.  Once the door was shut again, no one said anything.  Still no one would look at Dean.  Dean turned to his father and the question of if he was actually considering the offer died on his lips.  His father looked at him with an apologetic face and an expression that was asking him to understand the direness of the situation.

Dean nodded.  “We have to do this, don’t we?”

King John sighed and looked at his council.  “Ellen, how are the skirmishes on the eastern front?”

“We’re holding the line, but we’re stretched thin.”

“Victor, how is the training going of the new recruits?”

“Very well.  They’re quick learners and showing promise.  But, it will be some time before they’re ready for battle.”

“And Hell is pressing in on us from the south,” Bobby added gruffly.

“If we say no to Heaven and have to worry about them too,” Rufus said, “we won’t have the resources to cover both ends of the war.  Especially if they’re on opposite sides of the kingdom.”

“Bill,” King John looked at his minister of agriculture, “do we have enough supplies to feed a growing army?”

“For now, but I fear if we send too many people to war there won’t be enough to till the land in the spring.”

Everyone was silent and now looked at Dean.  King John turned to his son.

“Royals are rarely afforded the luxury of marrying for love, but we are given the opportunity to do what is best for our people.  Which is our familial duty.”

Dean nodded.  “I understand.”

“Do you?” Bobby asked.  “The Kingdom of Heaven—they don’t accept philandering of any kind.  They may be a polyamorous kind of society, but only within the context of marriage.  Our kingdom does not allow for polygamy.  You will never be able to have sex with anyone but your spouse or risk inciting a war.”

Dean flushed just hearing the word “sex” coming out of Bobby’s mouth, but he did his best to remain stoic and unaffected.

“I understand, I can do it,” Dean said.  He gave a nervous laugh, aiming to find any sort of humor in the situation.  “I mean, with a name like Castiel, she’s gotta be hot, right?”

~~~

Dean sighed in annoyance as Hannah and Samandriel, two representatives from Heaven, tried once again to show him the proper way to tie the marriage knot.  During the ceremony they were apparently going to have to tie their wrists together to fulfill some sort of ancient Heavenly superstition.  He thought it was stupid, and they thought Earth’s tradition of exchanging rings was ridiculous: jewelry could be lost.

“So?  These knots aren’t permanent at all.  At least the rings stay with us,” Dean said.

“The knots are only ceremonial,” Samandriel said.

“The permanent marking will come after the consummation,” Hannah added.

Dean blushed and focused all his attention on tying the knot again.

“So, what, all you guys are just going to hang around waiting for us to bang so you can give us matching tattoos later?”

Dean finished the knot and let out a noise of triumph as he finally got it right.  He looked up at Hannah and Samandriel for their approval.  They were looking at him blankly, and then exchanged looks with each other.

“What?” Dean asked.  “What is it?”

“You don’t know about the other part of the ceremony, do you?” Hannah asked.

Dean narrowed his eyes.  “What other part?”

~~~

“DAD!”

King John looked up as Dean burst through the doors of his anteroom with his page, two guards, and the representatives from Heaven in tow.  He put up a hand in apology to the ministers he was having an audience with and faced his son.

“Dean, now is not a good time to—”

“Did you know?” Dean demanded once he was standing in front of him.  He looked furious, but also upset.

“Know what?”

“About _all_ the customs of Heaven’s marriage ceremony?”

King John put his hands out.  “A little rope, a few words.  There’s a tattoo, but I hear it’s small and not very painful.”

“Yeah, the tattoo takes place after the _consummation_.”

The king stared at him blankly.

“The consummation that has to be witnessed by both royal families and a wide variety of witnesses!”

It took a moment for that to sink in, and then King John flinched and looked at the representatives from Heaven.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Extremely serious,” the woman replied.  “The marriage must be a real marriage.  It cannot be a political negotiation only.”

Dean turned wide, pleading eyes on him.  King John sort of vaguely shrugged.  Dean’s expression turned outraged.

“Dad!  You have to do something!  Otherwise, you _do_ understand that you’re going to have to watch your own son fucking some total stranger!”

King John looked at the representatives.  “You must understand that this is unacceptable in our culture.  We’ve conceded to some of your demands already, such as agreeing to not meeting Dean’s intended until the day of the wedding, but this is something we can’t agree to.”

“It’s non-negotiable,” the male said.  “Without a witnessed consummation, no one in the Kingdom of Heaven will recognize it as a valid marriage.”

“Witnessed yes,” King John winced, “but do _I_ have to be there?”

“Dad!”

“Technically no, but at least one parent must be present.  We are aware that Prince Dean’s mother is no longer of this world.”

“So, you’re saying the Queen God, who no one has ever seen, will come to the Kingdom of Earth to witness the consummation.”

“The Queen God cannot possibly leave the Kingdom of Heaven.  Castiel’s father, King Consort Michael, will witness the consummation.”

Dean went white with this news, and King John didn’t blame him.  The thought of trying to get it up while a fearsome warrior, who just happened to be the father of the bride, watched on didn’t sound appealing to him either.

There was silence in the room for a long moment, and then the woman spoke.

“Should we…return to Heaven with news that the treaty is off?”

King John looked at his son.  Dean’s face was pained, then he closed his eyes.

“No,” Dean said hoarsely.  “No.  The marriage is on.”

He opened his eyes and conveyed with a simple glare that his fiancée had better be hot if they wanted this to happen.  King John nodded his head.

“It’s settled then.  I appreciate you taking the time to ensure Dean is prepared for the ceremony.  Please, make sure there won’t be any more surprises?”

The representatives nodded their heads solemnly.  Dean stormed out of the room, not waiting for his page or any guards.  King John sighed and rubbed his temple.  This marriage was going to give him night terrors.

~~~

The day of the wedding Dean’s stomach, ironically enough, was in knots.  Sam was doing little to make him feel more at ease as he kept harping on the fact that he was going to have to watch his brother have sex.  When the list was presented of who would need to be present at the consummation, Dean had balked at the idea of his brother being there.  However, they had just asked the day before that the tradition of the fathers-in-law bathing the newlyweds in preparation for their union be eliminated and they knew they’d be stonewalled with anymore requests for changes to the consummation ceremony.  Apparently that was the most important aspect of the whole ritual to the Kingdom of Heaven.  Dean thought they were all just a bunch of perverts.

“Sammy, shut the fuck up and tell me if my longvest is straight.”

Sam made a face and looked at Dean.  “What does it matter?  It’s just going to be coming off anyway,” he groused.

“I hate you.  I really do.”

Sam shrugged.

They both froze as someone knocked at the door.  It was time.  Dean felt sick and looked around for something to throw up in.  Then Sam was by his side, rubbing his back with soothing circular motions of his hand.

“It’s okay, Dean.  This will save our kingdom.  And the ceremony, just a quick poke, right?  No big deal.”

Dean grimaced and it was the closest he could get to a smile.  “You’re right.  It’s no big deal.  Hell, I’ve had sex in a closet with the entire kitchen staff on the other side of the door.  This can’t be too much different.”

Sam tried to make a positive face and failed.  “That’s the spirit.”

The knock came again and Dean straightened.  He smoothed out the front of the spring green longvest he wore over a beige long-sleeved shirt and trousers with the blue and black tartan pattern of the Winchester clan.  It wasn’t the most flattering outfit, but if Dean had learned anything over the past month, it was that ritual trumps all.

They were greeted at the door by Bobby and a distance relation of his intended by the name of Zachariah.  He seemed to take great pride in the fact that he was related to the royal family, but he was also apparently a distance enough relation that he wasn’t required to wear the full cloak and veil that the representatives of Castiel’s family did.

Dean was a little creeped out as he entered the large, vaulted room of the biggest cathedral in the Kingdom of Earth and saw the line of figures in white at the back of the church.  They were covered from head to toe in an opaque, shimmery cloth that revealed no skin.  There didn’t even appear to be an opening for the eyes.  He wondered if they could see through it at all.  The King Consort Michael was the only one bareheaded.  Dean had seen him once, from a great distance, as a child.  Up close (and without a blazing sword in his hand) he didn’t seem so intimidating.

King Consort Michael stood next to Dean’s father and the two officiates at the altar.  The church was standing room only and the cracked windows did little to counteract the humid warmth that had built up from so many people in one place.  Pastor Jim stood next to Naomi—who apparently was not only in charge of political negotiations, but responsible for making them legal.

Dean approached the small group at the altar and met his father’s eyes.  The man gave him a strong, encouraging look and Dean straightened.  He turned to King Consort Michael and met his future father–in-law’s eyes steadily, and then proudly lifted his chin.  The hint of a smile pulled at the king consort’s lips.  He seemed pleased with Dean.  It took every ounce of his willpower not to start fidgeting.  He was also nervous that there didn’t appear to be a bride.

Suddenly, a chorus of voices rose up in the air.  It startled all the Earthlings, but after taking a moment to recover, they were able to appreciate the beautiful harmonies ringing through the large space in a language they couldn’t understand.  As the singing continued, one of the white clad figures disengaged from the line at the back of the church and began to walk down the aisle toward the altar.  The figure wasn’t the tallest in the line, but it was a close thing.  Dean suspected they would be close to eye level with each other, which was saying something since Dean was tall for an Earthling.  Though apparently about average height for a citizen of Heaven.

His bride reached the altar and the singing cut off at some unseen cue.  Dean squinted at the veil, trying to see through it, but he could see nothing of his future spouse.  Nothing except that she was fairly tall and had pretty broad shoulders.

Pastor Jim welcomed everyone and Naomi did the same in Enochian.  Apparently everyone in Heaven spoke the Common Tongue, but they all still retained their original language.  Pastor Jim spoke of the commitments and sanctity of marriage, and Naomi must have said similar things in Enochian.

In a Heavenly ceremony, the spoken vows were not made until after the knot tying ritual, but in order to accommodate the Earth ritual of exchanging rings, Pastor Jim had to recite some generic vows that Dean agreed to with a vocalized “I do” and Castiel agreed to with a silent nod of the head.  Dean was a little surprised by how large Castiel’s hands were when the white cloak was pulled back enough to reveal them, but the fingers were long and delicate and Dean figured he was big enough that her big hands wouldn’t make him feel inadequate.  He smiled at his own thought as he slipped the rose gold band onto Castiel’s finger, and Castiel tilted her head to the side in response.  Then she slid a platinum band onto Dean’s finger and they were ready to tie the knots.

Slowly and patiently, Castiel and Dean tied the intricate ceremonial knot around their wrists.  Dean was grateful that Castiel guided his hands and pretended not to notice his mistakes.  Once they were tied together, Naomi came forward and finished tying off the ropes around their hands.  Pastor Jim said a blessing over it—a kind of impromptu Earth addition to the Heavenly tradition.

Then King Consort Michael stepped forward and put his hands to Castiel’s veil.  He lifted it and folded it back over Castiel’s head, and when he stepped back, Dean got his first look at his spouse.  The first thing he saw was blue eyes.  Large, luminous, lovely blue eyes.  And then plush, pink lips.  Dean realized he was looking at a very pretty face, but unmistakably a man’s face.  Dean leaned slightly to the side, meaning to get his father’s attention, but he couldn’t break eye contact with Castiel; his gaze was intense.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“We might have a bit of a problem here.”

There were some gasps and murmurs from the audience at his words and then people in the front row seemed to catch on to what they were looking at and whispered the news behind them, creating a dull roar of noise in the cathedral.  Naomi looked scandalized by Dean’s words and King Consort Michael stayed by Castiel’s side as King John approached.  Dean saw his father’s eyes go wide when he caught sight of Castiel’s face.

“Who is this?” King John asked.

“This is the Queen God’s child, Castiel,” King Consort Michael said.  “My son.”

“ _This_ is who you offered to unite our two kingdoms?” King John asked incredulously.

Dean became nervous as King Consort Michael’s brow darkened and Naomi flicked a hand gesture at the Heavenly guards who instantly abandoned parade rest to be at the ready.  Castiel’s brow was creased in mild confusion and Dean didn’t know what to do other than stand there.

“My son,” the offended king consort said, “is a beloved member of the royal family.  We couldn’t offer a union with the heir apparent, but Castiel is second in line to the throne.  That means that, Queen God forbid, if Gabriel were to perish, Castiel and Dean would rule the Kingdoms of Earth and Heaven.  It places not only Castiel in ultimate power over Heaven, but also gives royal authority to an Earthling.  That’s how serious we are with this union—we would accept an Earthling as a co-ruling King of Heaven and not just a consort.”

King John raised his eyebrows, and Dean realized his Dad was impressed.  That did not bode well for him getting out of marrying a guy.

“That is indeed a great honor, but Castiel…is a man.”

King Consort Michael gave about as close to a “duh” look as someone of his regal stature could manage.  “What were you expecting with a name like Castiel?”

Dean’s gaze shifted back over to Castiel.  As far as he could tell the guy had never stopped looking at him.  It was a pleasant face; he could probably look at it every day if he had to.  But how was he going to—Dean went rigid as he remembered the next step of this marriage ceremony.

“I just don’t understand why if you knew my son was a man, that you would offer a man in marriage.  I suppose technically the marriage can be consummated—” Dean groaned very softly.  “—but this union could never produce a child.”

“Of course not!” Naomi scoffed.

The king consort shot her a quelling look and she lowered her head.  He turned his attention to King John.

“That is precisely why we arranged a marriage between sons.  For a member of the royal family of Heaven to produce a half-race child is strictly forbidden.”

“But what about legacy?” King John asked.  “Who will succeed after Dean if he is unable to produce an heir?  What if they both do end up ruling Heaven?  Who will succeed in your own Kingdom?”

“We do not think that succession must be made in strict parent to child lineage.  Your other son and Castiel’s other siblings can have children that they can name as heirs.”

“But what if Dean wants to have his own children one day?”

“He is more than welcome to propose a female of your race to enter their marriage as a Queen Consort.”

“Our kingdom does not allow for polygamy.  Of any kind.”

“What?”

It was the first thing Castiel had said and he looked positively alarmed at the idea of having no other sexual partners but Dean for the rest of his life.  Dean smiled wryly.

“I guess they didn’t give you all the details either.”

Castiel cut his eyes over to Naomi who decidedly did not make eye contact.

“Well,” King Consort Michael said, “our customs do make for a sticky situation.”

“A sticky situ—”  Dean cut off and would have smacked a palm to his forehead, but his hands were tied to Castiel’s.

The church had gone quiet again as everyone strained to hear what the verdict would be.

“So, what are we going to do?” King John asked.  “Are going to call off the treaty?  Or renegotiate the terms?”

Naomi went stock still and her eyes jumped back and forth between the two kings.  King Consort Michael contemplated for a moment, and then he spoke.

“I feel that the marriage of our sons is the best way to seal this treaty.  I fear what may happen if we try to make changes at this point.”

“I can’t disagree that delaying our union could have catastrophic consequences, what with Hell mobilizing a stronger force quicker than we thought.”

“I agree that we should go through with it now, but it is our children who will be the most affected by this marriage.”

The kings turned to look at Dean and Castiel.  Dean made a face.  Oh, sure, put the fate of their kingdoms completely on their shoulders.  Dean looked back at Castiel.  He was studying Dean’s face with great intensity again, and then he shrugged.  Dean sighed.

“We’ll do it,” Dean said.

“You will?” King John asked, quite frankly sounding more stunned than Dean thought the situation warranted.

“Yes,” Dean said.

“Castiel?” King Consort Michael said, “Do you consent to this marriage?”

Castiel nodded.  “I do.”

“Carry on then.”

The kings stepped back the side and the crowd rippled with excitement as Pastor Jim and Naomi stepped forward to continue with the spoken vows.  Dean focused on the words he had to parrot back and tried to ignore everyone and everything around him and especially not think about what he was going to be doing when it was all over.  He kept his eyes focused on Castiel.  He was the only one who understood what he was going through.  Well, kind of.  He didn’t seem surprised to be marrying a man.  Though perhaps he hadn’t anticipated being married _only_ to a man for the rest of life.  Dean remembered what Bobby had said about his Heavenly spouse being the only person he would ever have sex with for the rest of his life.  He repressed a sigh as he consigned himself to a life of masturbation.

The ceremony ended with Castiel and Dean kissing their bound hands and the crowd erupted into loud cheers and applause.  As far as Dean knew the information about the consummation being witnessed had been kept on a need to know basis in Earth, and only those that needed to be there knew anything about it.  He figured that would be the only way he would ever be able to look his subjects in the eyes ever again.

Dean and Castiel were led out of the cathedral and through a long path of onlookers who hadn’t been able to get inside the church.  The walk from the church to the royal keep wasn’t that long, but it felt endless as Dean could hear gasps and whispers every few feet as the people realized Prince Dean had married a man.  It was also awkward as fuck to walk beside someone you were tied to by both hands.

The procession made it to the keep and there was mostly cheerful celebration with only little bit of confusion and grumbling mixed in from the crowd.  It was at that point that Sam and one of the white clad figures who was one of Castiel’s siblings took over leading them.  The procession behind them thinned only to those who would witness the consummation.  In total it was about fifty people and Dean felt hot humiliation and cold dread warring in his body and making him feel sick as they were led to an audience chamber that King John had provided to be used for the ceremony.  For about two weeks people from Heaven had been busy preparing the room.  When Dean saw it, it momentarily made him forget about its sole purpose.

The stone walls and ceiling were completely hidden beneath swaths of beautiful, expensive gold fabric.  Mixed in were panels of the blue and black Winchester tartan.  The floor was covered in a half foot thick pile of carpets and furs, making it comfortable to stand on for long periods of time.  Dean blushed as he wondered how long they thought this ceremony would take.  In the center of the room was a huge four poster bed that only fit the definition because Dean had no other word for it.  It was easily ten feet by ten feet—the “mattress” looking like it was a handmade pillow.  It looked soft and springy and was a deep, true black which would make Dean’s and Castiel’s skin color (tan as they were) pop in contrast.  Dean’s blush deepened.  The posts rose almost to the ceiling and a large canvas mural of a sunrise joining the land and the sky was suspended between the posts creating a kind of second ceiling.  At each of the four corners, champagne-colored panels of sheer, delicate gossamer hung to the floor.

Dean felt Castiel lean toward him just slightly.  He turned his head and had to listen carefully to hear his—sheesh _husband’s_ —low voice.

“I requested the panels,” he said.  “When I heard this custom was objectionable to you.”

“Uh, thanks,” Dean replied, though he didn’t know how a pretty embellishment was supposed to make him feel better.

The witnesses filed into the room and Dean kept his eyes firmly on the floor.  _Don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact_ , he repeated to himself.  He heard someone clear their throat and recognized the irritated grit.  He couldn’t help but look up at his mentor and the man who was like a second father to him.

“Not you too, Bobby,” Dean whined softly.

“It was either me or Ellen, boy.”

Dean made a face.  “Thank you.”

Bobby grunted.

The witnesses spread themselves out evenly around the four sides of the bed—so there was no where he’d be able to look with any sort of safety.  Only up at the mural or down at the pillow-mattress he supposed.  Sam and Castiel’s sibling led them toward the bed and Dean felt that creeping sense of nausea return.  The siblings carefully unwound the series of knots from their hands, and Dean was gratified to see that Castiel also felt the need to shake out his fingers and rub his wrists.  Then Sam and the mystery sibling put the ends of the two ropes together and held a small torch to them to melt them together.

“So are the ropes that bind joined into one,” Naomi announced, “let the flesh be as one as well.”

“Oh, geez,” Dean muttered.  This was beyond mortifying.  There wasn’t a word strong enough for this.

Castiel began to undo the beautiful, but complicated fasteners of his cloak and Dean stared dumbfounded.  Castiel looked up at him.

“Normally my father-in-law would do this, but you requested they not take part in the ceremony, correct?”

“Oh, yes.”

Castiel glanced down at Dean’s longvest and then back up at him.

“Right!  Get naked.  Got it.”

A few people in the room chuckled and Dean groaned softly.  Castiel gave him a small smile as he began to undress again.

“It’s alright, husband.  It’s just a penis; not a hellhound.”

That startled a laugh out of Dean and while he was still embarrassed as fuck, the nausea had disappeared.  He didn’t know if it would be better to undress quickly or slowly, but he figured doing anything that could be interpreted as a strip tease would be a bad idea.  He removed his clothes swiftly, clinically, and looked up when he heard a whoosh of fabric.  The cloak had fallen to pool around Castiel’s ankles and Dean realized that was the only clothing he had been wearing the whole time.

His eyes roamed over his husband’s body.  He was tone and hairless except for a thatch of dark hair at his groin nestled around a decently sized cock and balls.  It looked normal.  At least the people of Heaven didn’t have weird junk.  He raised his eyes and saw a small birthmark next to his right, dark nipple.  Farther up was a set of graceful clavicles, a long throat, and then Castiel’s face.  Dean was surprised to see him blushing.

“Do I please you, husband?”

Dean mustered up a lopsided smile.  “I guess we’re about to find out.”

Castiel laughed and then looked at his hand.  He started to remove his ring but Dean reached out and stopped him.

“No.  It stays on.  We never take off our wedding bands.”

Castiel looked horrified and snatched his hand to his chest, protecting the ring with his other hand.

“I’m so sorry!  I didn’t know!  I promise, I’ll never take it off.”

“Uh,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck.  “Well, I mean, you know, if you’re about to stick your hands in something gross you can take it off.  It’s not like a ‘the marriage is over if you do’ kind of thing.”

Castiel shook his head and put his hand out so he could look at the band sparkle in the flickering light provided by the four large torch stands at the corners of the room.  He smiled as he turned the ring with his thumb.

“I’ll never take it off,” he repeated.

He looked up and offered his ringed hand.  It was slightly awkward to use his left hand to hold Castiel’s, but he knew the man would want their ringed hands to be joined.  They walked to the bed and then crawled onto it about as gracefully as two people can onto a giant bouncy pillow.  Once they were situated in the middle, Dean saw that his father and Castiel’s father were stationed at the foot of the bed.

“Oh, geezus,” Dean mumbled, dropping his head.  How was he supposed to go through with this?

Then four people walked to the corners of the bed, grabbed a hold of the gossamer panels, and slid them across to the opposite post.  The panels were completely sheer, but just gauzy enough to distort faces and create a pseudo-sense of privacy.  Now he understood why Castiel had requested the panels.  He glanced over at him shyly and gave a small smile.  Castiel scooted closer until they were sitting side by side.  Dean held his breath as he stared at this man—now his husband.  His heart was pounding and he didn’t know what he was going to do.

“What’s that?” Castiel asked, pointing up.

Dean looked up, and saw nothing but the mural.  He looked back down.  “What are—”

Castiel’s lips pressed against his gently and in his surprise, Dean remained motionless.  And then he jerked back and looked at Castiel’s amused expression.

“As bad as or worse than you feared?” he asked.

Dean licked his lips and swallowed thickly.  “Neither,” he said.

Castiel’s smile grew and he leaned close, and paused.  Dean leaned forward enough to close the distance and shut his eyes as they kissed again.  It was slow, and hesitant, but Castiel’s lips were every bit as soft and plush as they looked.  Castiel kissed his upper lip, and then Dean caught his husband’s lower lip between his teeth.  Castiel sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly Dean felt something stir to life down below.  The sound had been breathy and sensual and Dean wanted to hear it again.  He raised a hand to cup Castiel’s face and hold him in place while he tilted his head and deepened their kiss.  Castiel moaned softly and put a hand on his thigh.  Rather than startle him back to self-consciousness, it encouraged that throb of want in his groin.

So maybe Dean had liked to watch the guards practice shirtless in the training yard when he’d been younger.  Maybe he’d had a dream or two about the sexy physician who patched up his scrapes and set a broken bone or two.  Maybe Dean wasn’t completely incapable of getting aroused by a guy.  Especially a guy who smelled like the fresh, sharp scent of the first really cold morning in winter and tasted like the sweetest melon of summer.

The kissing was good.  Very good.  He didn’t quite forget where he was, but he was able to ignore it enough and push Castiel down onto the pillow and slide on top of him.  Castiel gasped and spread his legs, encouraging Dean to settle in between them.  The first contact of their groins informed Dean that Castiel was hard—and so was he.  He swallowed a moan as he thrust his hips down to rub their cocks together.  Castiel’s nails dragged up his back and Dean couldn’t repress the groan that escaped him that time.  He fisted a hand in Castiel’s hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat.  Dean sucked a mark over his pulse point while the man writhed against him and clutched at his shoulders.

Dean rolled his hips, over and over, and he heard Castiel’s breathing increase, his voice pitch higher, and it matched the pleasure ratcheting Dean closer to his own release.  Then Castiel pushed back on one shoulder and gasped out, “Wait, Dean, oh lord…wait.”

Dean paused immediately and pulled back enough to look at Castiel.  That’s when he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and heard a soft cough.  He lost of some of his zeal and was immediately pulled back from the brink of orgasm at the reminder of his audience.

“We have to,” Castiel panted.  “Inside.”

Dean flushed crimson.  He had a basic idea of how two men had penetrative sex, but he actually wasn’t entirely sure of the specifics of how the whole thing happened.  Castiel waved a hand toward one corner of the bed.

“Over there.  Get.  The vials.”

Dean was loathe to be the one to move away from the hot cradle of Castiel’s thighs, but he did as he was told and tried really, really hard not to imagine everyone looking at his butt as he crawled or his dick flopping under him.  He found two vials of a clear-ish liquid that appeared to be a little thicker than water.  He quickly scooted back to Castiel’s side and gave him the vials.  He set one aside and opened the other.  The air around them was filled with a light citrusy scent.  Castiel held the vial out to Dean and he stared at it blankly.  Castiel smiled and bent his knees.  He lifted one leg slightly off the pillow.

“Hold that for me?”

Dean hooked his elbow under Castiel’s knee and held his leg slightly above the mattress.  Castiel made eye contact.

“Spread me?”

Dean repressed a moan and a shiver, and put a hand to his rapidly returning hard on as he spread Castiel’s legs apart.  Then the man poured some of the sweet, orangey smelling liquid on his fingers and reached between his legs.  Dean stared, dumbstruck as Castiel’s long fingers circled a pink bud that fluttered every time he pressed on it.  Castiel was biting his lip and had his eyes closed as he circled his hips down onto his fingers.

“Shit,” Dean breathed when the first finger slipped in.  He grabbed the base of his dick hard, concerned that he might actually blow his wad from visuals alone.  Castiel pumped one finger in and out and then added a second.  Dean almost whimpered out loud as he watched Castiel fuck himself with his fingers.  Then Castiel was making, needy, unsatisfied whines.  Dean could tell it was because he couldn’t get his fingers deep enough.  He set Castiel’s leg down and grabbed the vial of fluid.  He poured some onto his fingers and then stroked Castiel’s erection.  His eyes flew open in shock and then he mewled softly and thrust up into Dean’s hand.  Dean could feel precome leaking out of his own dick; he wasn’t sure he’d been this aroused in his life.

Dean slid his hand down over Castiel’s balls, giving them a gentle massage and then slid them over the perineum.  Castiel had removed his fingers and canted his hips up at Dean.  He begged silently with his eyes for Dean to continue.  Sinking his finger into his husband for the first time was nothing like the first time he’d fingered a girl.  Castiel was hotter, tighter, _wetter_.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned and added a second finger.  Castiel’s answering moan encouraged him to thrust his finger in and out quickly.

“Another,” Castiel breathed.

Dean obeyed.  Castiel’s back arched and the moan he let out was obscene as Dean thrust three fingers in him all the way to the last knuckle.

“Ah, Dean…Dean…put some—ah!  Put some on your cock.  Fuck me now.”

Dean awkwardly used one hand to pour the rest of the liquid onto his cock and spread it over the head and shaft; he didn’t want to pull his fingers out of Castiel until the last moment.

“Ready?” Dean managed to grunt through gritted teeth as he nudged against his fingers with his cockhead.

Castiel nodded his head wildly.  “Yes, Dean, yes, please!  Hurry!”

Dean grasped Castiel’s hip with one hand and pulled out his fingers so that he could guide his cockhead to Castiel’s entrance.  He pushed lightly, meeting some resistance.

“It’s okay,” Castiel, encouraged breathily.  “I’m ready.  Inside, Dean.  Come inside—ah!”

Dean saw stars as his shaft slid into the tight, gripping heat of Castiel’s body inch by inch.  He knew he was making some sort of crazed, animal noise (and in the back of his mind he was somewhat aware that his family was listening to this), but the feeling was too good to pretend that he wasn’t losing his grip on reality.  He bottomed out and snugged his balls right up against Castiel’s ass.  He rolled his hips and few times and Castiel keened pitifully.  Then he suddenly grasped Dean’s forearms and did his best to lock his lust-glazed, unfocused eyes on Dean’s.

“Come on, husband.  Do it.”

Dean pulled out slowly, and then slammed in quickly with no warning.  Castiel screamed.  Dean lost control.  He fucked into Castiel like it was the only way to save the world from imminent destruction.  Castiel’s wails were somewhat muffled by all the cloth on the walls, but up close they rang through Dean’s ears and encouraged him to go faster, harder.  Dean lost all sense of his surroundings.  All he knew was the perfect, all-encompassing heat and friction of Castiel’s body around his and before he knew it lightning was sparking behind his eyes and exploding throughout his whole body.  He shuddered and let out a desperate gasp, and then froze as he felt his seed emptying into his husband’s body.  He held still for as long as possible, and then jerked his hips, drawing a broken moan out of Castiel.

Then Dean gasped for air and his vision returned.  He stared down at Castiel, his skin covered in sweat, his hair damp and plastered to his forehead.  Then he heard a soft sigh and the whisper of fabric as people shifted their weight.  He sat up, face heating as he remembered there were fifty people watching him.  There was also a niggling thought in the back of his mind that those sounds he was hearing were some people awkwardly trying to hide and dispel their own arousal.

Then Dean looked down and saw that Castiel’s cock was still hard, an angry looking red of denied release.  Now Dean was embarrassed for completely different reasons.

“Oh, shit, Cas, I’m so sorry.”  He reached out to take a hold of his erection and finish him off, but Castiel, intercepted his hand.

“I held off on purpose.”

“Why?”

“You need to pull out now,” Castiel whispered.

“Oh, fuck.  Sorry.”

Dean pulled out and flopped onto his back, realizing he was still out of breath.  He hoped everyone would just be able to file out of the room and—Dean scrunched up and squeaked when he saw King Consort Michael pull back the gossamer curtain and crawl partway onto the bed.  He grabbed Castiel’s ankle and pulled him to the edge.

“Do you think you will be satisfied with your husband?” he asked.

“Yes, I do,” Castiel replied, like he wasn’t talking to his father with his raging hard on in both their faces.

Then to Dean’s horror, the king consort lifted one of Castiel’s legs and spread them apart.

“I see evidence that Castiel’s husband has left his essence within.”  He turned to King John.  “Do you see it?”

“Yeah, yeah!  I see it,” King John said even though he was clearly looking at the ceiling.

“Excellent,” King Consort Michael said.  “We’re halfway there.”

He released Castiel and pulled the gossamer panel closed.  Castiel turned and crawled on all fours back to Dean.  Dean put up a finger as he tried to form his question.

“H-half-halfway there?  What does that mean?”

Castiel picked up the second unopened vial and pushed Dean back onto the pillow.  Dean struggled a little as Castiel pushed between his legs and settled back on his haunches.  The second vial smelled like strawberries when he popped the cap off.

“Hang on, hang on.  We’ve consummated,” Dean said.  “Your dad totally verified it in a really horribly creepy way.”

“Only the first half.  There are two of us here after all.”

“But-but—“ Dean bit his lip as Castiel massaged his sore and sated balls.  “But if there were a man and a woman—you couldn’t—it wouldn’t—” he hissed air in through his teeth as Castiel’s slender finger rubbed over his perineum and the tip flirted with the pucker of his entrance.

Castiel leaned forward and kissed Dean, distracting him for a moment, then slipping his tongue into his mouth at the same moment he slipped a finger inside him.  Dean gasped and grabbed onto Castiel, his body tense.  He waited for the pain, but there was none.  Just one finger lubed up with whatever oil was in those vials didn’t create any sort of pain at all.  But he knew that wouldn’t be the case with two fingers.

“Please, Cas, I’m not sure if I—”

“Shh,” Castiel hushed him against his lips.  “Just relax and I can make it so good for you, husband.”

Dean turned his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Dean, look at me.”

Dean peeked one eye open.  Castiel was looking down with a gentle smile and a beautiful flush in his cheeks.

“I want to be inside you,” he murmured, and fuck him if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever heard in his life.  Then he laughed giddily as he realized “fuck him” was exactly what was going to happen next.

He relaxed his body and before he knew it Cas had a second finger gliding nearly frictionless in and out of his ass.  He was able to calm down enough to give his husband a mild glare.

“Still don’t know why we both have to do it,” he grumbled.  “A man and woman couldn’t.”

“A man is fully expected to take his wife into his body during their consummation,” Castiel said.

“How?” Dean demanded.

Castiel leaned down and whispered in his ear.  “He eats her out.”

“Oh!”

Dean laughed and turned his face into his hand.  Castiel stayed near his ear, nuzzling him with his nose.

“That’s also something we can try later.”

“Geezus,” Dean whimpered as a fresh wave of arousal burst through him with that visual.  And then—Castiel moved his hand, turned his fingers over, and rubbed.

Dean arched off the pillow and had to bite down on his arm so he wouldn’t scream.  It was like a mini orgasm—like a mini-orgasm centered in this weird tiny space in his ass.

“The-the fuck!” Dean burst out and moaned loudly, tossing his head on the pillow.

“That, my husband, is something I’m going to teach you about so that you can return the favor one day.”

“Yes, yes!  Fuck yes!”

“Ready for me?”

Dean tried to get his eyes open and focus on Castiel.  Some part of his brain was telling him to be concerned about something, but the rest of him was telling him to shut the fuck up and let it happen.

“Am I ready?” Dean asked.  “You’re no slouch down there.”

“I’ve got four fingers in you already.”

“Fuuuuuuck,” Dean groaned, and then nodded his head and covered his eyes with his forearm.  Then he felt it—the blunt head of Castiel’s cock as it nudged his entrance.  “Oh, fuck, oh geez, oh—”

Dean’s mouth fell open but no sound came out as he spread his legs and felt Castiel slide into him.  It was an odd sensation—to be able feel something from the _inside_.  It felt like Castiel was too big and too hot and too much, but the only cogent thought in his mind was, “More, more, please, Cas, more…”

Castiel hilted himself in Dean, and then leaned forward to place a kiss on Dean’s slack lips.

“I like it when you call me Cas.”

Dean moaned something unintelligible, and Castiel pulled back and began to move in earnest.  It didn’t take long for his rhythm to dissolve into wild, quick thrusts and Dean couldn’t believe how turned on he was by the fact that Castiel was taking pleasure out of his body.  Then he felt Castiel’s hand on his cock and clenched the fabric of the pillow underneath him in both hands.  He was hard again, and he was about to come on Castiel’s cock.

Dean let out a low, building whine and pushed back into Castiel’s almost painful thrusts.  “Please, almost there, almost there—alllll oh fuck!  Oh yes!  Cas, _Cas_!”

Dean felt his come splatter on his chest, and some fell on his chin.  He was so wrapped up in the ecstasy roiling through him that he forgot to see if he could feel when Castiel came inside him.  As he came down he felt his husband rolling his hips as he finished off.  Dean opened his eyes and swallowed as he tried to catch his breath.  Castiel looked down at him and the painted sunrise haloed his head, making him look divine.  They gazed into one another’s eyes for several long, soul shaking moments, and then Castiel leaned down to kiss him.  Before their lips had really even touched, someone cleared their throat loudly.  Dean stiffened and Castiel sighed.  He pulled out gently and Dean closed his lips around a sound of displeasure at losing their connection.

Then the gossamer was pulled back and Dean saw the king consort waiting for him.  He sat part way up and started to scoot away.

“Unh-un.  No way.”

Castiel brushed the back of his knuckles down Dean’s sweaty cheek.

“You have to.  It’s best to just get it over with.”

Dean scowled, and then reluctantly shuffled his way over to the end of the bed.  He tensed and made a fist, ready to swing when King Consort Michael grabbed his ankle; only years of training to school his emotions and reactions kept him in check.  The king spread his legs and the most humiliating part of the night happened as he felt Castiel’s come dribble out of his hole and down his crack.

“I see evidence that Dean’s husband has left his essence within.  Do you confirm this, King John?”

“Yep.”

“You have to look,” King Consort Michael said menacingly.

Dean kept his eyes firmly squeezed shut so he wouldn’t have to know if his father actually looked or not.

“Yes, I confirm it,” King John growled.

“Let it be known that the marriage of Castiel, son of the Queen God and Prince Dean, heir apparent to the Kingdom of Earth has been consummated and witnessed.”

The Earthlings began an awkward polite clap, and then stopped when they realized the people of Heaven were giving them odd looks.

“We’ll leave you two for now to rest.  Food and drink will be brought to you.  When you are adequately recovered, we will witness the marking ceremony.”

“Lot of witnessing and ceremony in your culture,” Dean muttered as he returned to the center of the bed next to Castiel.  The man just smiled and combed his fingers through Dean’s hair.

There was some quiet murmuring as the crowd shuffled out of the room and Dean hoped they weren’t discussing current events.  Before the doors shut, two pages entered, faces beet red, and placed a tray heavily laden with fruits and vegetables and nuts on the bed along with a large pitcher that tilted precariously and two empty goblets.  Then the young pages scurried back outside and the doors shut.  Dean was left alone with his new husband for the first time since he had met him.  One upshot to the whole consummation witnessing was that he didn’t feel awkward around the guy now that they were alone.

Castiel slid to the edge of the bed and beckoned Dean to join him.  Dean grumbled in protest but used what little strength he had to move across the bed and sit beside Cas—the guy said he liked the nickname after all—and accepted a goblet that he had filled with cucumber infused water.  Dean drank deeply and then leaned back on one arm, worn out both physically and emotionally.  It was only now that he realized how stressed and scraped raw he felt by the whole ordeal.  He could only imagine how much worse it could have been if Cas hadn’t been Cas, but some awkward weirdo who he wasn’t attracted to at all.  Castiel placed a ripe strawberry against his lips and he bit into it, enjoying the burst of tart flavor.  Strawberries were a delicacy they rarely had in Earth as they were native to Heaven.

“Good husband,” Castiel said cheekily.  “You need to keep up your strength.  We’ve got three days of this ahead of us.”

Dean choked on the fruit and sat up in alarm.  “They’re going to—”

“No, no!” Castiel soothed him.  “Not with the audience.  Just us.”

Dean relaxed slightly.  “Three days?”

Castiel nodded.  “It’s to encourage intimacy.”

“That sounds like a lot of intimacy.”

“Usually it’s ten days.”

Dean paused with a cashew at his mouth.  “Why do we only have three?”

Castiel’s expression became serious and he turned to face Dean while tracing nonsense patterns on Dean’s thigh with his finger.

“Because we have no time to waste.  Our scouts have told us that the armies of Hell have been marching through Purgatory.  Either this means they’re working together, or Purgatory has become overrun by Hell.  Hell is much closer to Heaven than we thought and they have you surrounded on two sides now.  We must begin our campaign against them, and as the leaders who represent the literal joining of our nations, it must be us two who forge the path for our people.”

Dean took Castiel’s hand in his and held it tightly.  “We didn’t know Hell had advanced outside of their own borders.”

Castiel nodded gravely.

“Does Heaven know about the third faction that has risen up?”

“What faction?”

“Well, you know that there’s a civil war dividing the kingdom, right?”

“Yes, between those siding with Lucifer and those siding with Crowley.”

“We’ve received intelligence that a large group has broken away from both of them and are following one of the Knights of Hell.  Reports differ as to whether it’s a man named Cain or a woman named Abaddon, but it’s possible it’s both.  Hell may actually be tearing itself apart.”

“Then now is the perfect time to strike and wipe them out completely.”

Dean nodded.  He laced his fingers with Castiel.  “We’ll do it together.”

Castiel leaned forward and put his forehead to Dean’s.  “Heaven and Earth.”

~Three Years Later~

Dean ran his fingers through his hair and then gave it a good tug to keep himself grounded.  His hips were being held off the bed and Castiel was between his legs, buried inside him, fucking him with relentless shallow thrusts that found his prostate every time.  And was he ever grateful his foreign husband had taught him what the fuck the prostate was.

“You close, baby?” Cas huffed out as he impossibly went at him harder.

“Fuck, yes, you little shit!  I’ve been there for twenty minutes now!  You feel good, babe, you really do, but it’s just not gonna happen.  You gotta touch it, man.  You gotta—oh, geezus—oh fuck!  Shit, shit, I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Dean yelled and pulled on his hair to the point of pain and would have laughed if he wasn’t in the middle of an intense orgasm.  He came back to himself in time to see Castiel thrust into him once more and spill his seed into his body.  Cas grinned at him and pulled back just enough so he could see his come-slick dick slide out Dean’s body.

“Ah, I see evidence that Dean’s husband has left his essence within.”

Dean groaned and shoved at Cas’ shoulder with his foot.  “Are you ever going to get tired of that?”

“Are you ever going to get tired of me doing it?” Castiel countered.

Dean didn’t dignify that with a response.  He just got out of bed (gingerly, he had just had his ass reamed for close to an hour—his husband’s stamina was frightening to be quite honest) and walked over to the table that held a pitcher of strawberry infused water and two goblets.  He filled a cup and drank to quench his thirst, and then he filled it again and sipped from it slowly.  He walked back to the bed and Castiel put out a hand.  Dean surrendered his cup and enjoyed holding eye contact with him while he drank his fill.  Since the combined armies of Heaven and Earth had pushed Hell back inside its borders and annexed a large portion of Purgatory and cleared out part of the Fog Forest, it had become easier to open trade between their two kingdoms.  Strawberries were a little easier to come by now, but still a luxury item.

Castiel sat up and handed the goblet back to Dean.  “Will you be ready to travel to Heaven by the end of the week?”

Dean sighed and sat down on the bed.  “I’m not trying to get out of visiting your parents, babe, I promise, but I don’t really want to leave before Dad and Sammy get back from their mission to Hell.  I know it’s just an attempt at establishing diplomatic relations, but I’ve got a bad feeling about the whole situation.  They should have been back days ago.”

Castiel hugged Dean’s arm and rested his chin on his shoulder.  “I know.  I can stay here with you.  We don’t have to leave until they get back.”

“We’ve already put your parents off for three months now.  I don’t want to anger them by keeping you here again.”

Castiel kissed his shoulder.  “I don’t mind.  And they’ll understand.”

Dean exhaled with relief and raised a hand to pet Cas’ hair.  “Good.  Because I didn’t mean a word of that.”

Castiel laughed and straightened so that he could kiss Dean’s lips.  It was meant to be a quick kiss, but they got caught up in each other and soon were wrapped in each other’s arms and leaning back onto the bed.  They were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.  Castiel growled like an offended kitten and Dean laughed and tossed his husband's legs over his shoulder so that he was hidden in the piles of pillows and blankets on their bed.  Dean wrapped himself in a soft were-woolen robe and opened their door a sliver to keep Castiel out of view.

“Your highness,” a guard said, looking grave and ashen, “you and the Heaven Prince are needed in the council room.  Immediately.”

“We’ll be right there.”

Dean shut the door and turned to face Cas.  His husband sat up immediately when he saw his expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said numbly even though he already had a sickening feeling in his gut that he knew what was going on.  “We’re needed in the council room.”

They dressed quickly without any of their usual intimacy, their minds already switching to the protector of the realm persona they draped themselves in when needed in an official capacity.  The walk from the east wing of the keep to the main stronghold where the council room was took them almost ten minutes even at a fast clip.  Dean was slightly out of breath by the time they entered the room.  Everyone was already gathered, a mixture of both Earth and Heaven representatives.  Dean and Castiel took their places at the head of the table.

“What’s happened?” Dean asked without preamble.

A young man that Dean didn’t recognize as more than one of the emissaries from Heaven who had joined his father and brother on their mission to Hell stood up shakily from a chair that had been squeezed in at the end of the table.  He looked starved and worn and was covered in tiny cuts and bruises.

“Inias,” Castiel said, looking alarmed.  “Are you okay?  What happened?”

“Treachery,” the young man spat with all the fierceness he could muster.  “I was overseeing the stabling of the horses and that’s the only reason why I escaped.  The perfidious Hellions set upon the whole party and killed many of them right off.”

Dean went very still.  He felt Castiel’s hand seek his out under the table, but he couldn’t open his fist to take his hand.

“Hester made it outside and warned me off before she was slain.  I was able to grab a horse and ride for my life.  It took me over two weeks to make my way out of Hell in the shadows.  Along the way as I hid among the vagrants and thieves, I heard the news.  King John has been assassinated.”

Dean felt the world tilt and only Castiel’s steady hand upon his shoulder kept him upright.

“Prince Samuel has been taken prisoner by Lucifer who assumes the mantle of King of Hell.”

“But he lives?” Dean asked, breathless.  “Sam is alive?”

Inias bowed his head.  “As far as I am aware he lives.  The rumors…” the man trailed off.

“Speak!” Dean barked and the man flinched.

“The rumors are that Lucifer intends to wed a royal son of Earth in order to legitimize his claim to the throne of Hell.  Just like Heaven has done by tying herself to Earth by marriage.”

Dean ground his teeth together and did his best to not get up and start flipping tables and throwing chairs.  The council immediately began to make plans and preparations for an invasion.  There was no other option.  Envoys were to be sent to Heaven for reinforcements.  Scouts and spies were to be dispatched to collect intelligence.  Arrangements had to be made for Dean’s immediate coronation—Earth had to have a king.

Dean sat through the most of the long meeting in a haze.  He remembered responding to questions when prompted, but he couldn’t recall what the questions had been about or what he had answered.  Eventually the room cleared as everyone rushed to make preparations and break into smaller groups for more detailed strategizing.  Dean couldn’t bring himself to function just yet.  He knew tomorrow that he would have to put his father and brother out of his mind and be the King of Earth his people needed, but for now he was content to sit curled into his husband’s side and let his grief overwhelm him.

Castiel carded his fingers through his hair and murmured comforting nonsense into his ear.  His lips pressed to Dean’s temple over and over, promising that he would be there for Dean on every step of his revenge.

“I’m with you, my love, you know that.  I’ll go with you.  Even into Hell itself.”

Dean heard Castiel’s words and reached up a hand to grab his wrist.

“And back,” he said hoarsely.

“What?” Castiel asked, peering down at him.

Dean sat up straight and met Castiel’s concerned, but determined eyes.

“To Hell _and_ back,” Dean emphasized.

Castiel nodded and leaned his forehead against Dean’s.

“Together, my husband.  To Hell and back again.”

 

**2.  ABO - One Night Stand Results in Pregnancy - Destiel - Explicit**

 

_warnings: alpha!Dean, omega!Cas; mpreg; discussion of abortion; descriptions of labor and delivery like whoa (but not graphic)_

 

“Darling, if we don’t go out tonight, I won’t see you for days!”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Cas sighed as he tried to concentrate on his Statics homework.  He hated the class with a burning, fiery rage—probably similar to the sensation Balthazar got when he peed.

“I’m not,” Balthazar replied, using that tone of voice he used when he was acting like he was scolding a puppy for not piddling on the papers.  “You’re going into heat in a couple of days, so you’ll be forced to stay in for the next few days, and I’m leaving next weekend for spring break, which you refuse to come with!”

“Baz, I’ve told you, I have a major project due in April that I have to use that week to work on.  Being an engineering major sucks all the kinds of balls you hate.”

Balthazar came up behind him and closed his text book.  Cas let out an aborted noise of frustration and turned to look at his friend.

“Exactly, Cas.  You’re not going on vacation, you’re going to be MIA for the rest of the semester if this class doesn’t kill you first.  You’re telling me that you can’t take one last weekend to enjoy your senior year and be an irresponsible fuckhead with me?”

Cas felt his resolution to stay in all weekend and study start to crumble.  This was his last semester of college and he hadn’t been to a _real_ party since he had officially declared his engineering major at the beginning of junior year.

“Plus, I know how close you are to your heat; I can practically smell it.  You’ve got to be horny.”

Cas bobbed his head in concession as he thought about it.  He _was_ horny.  He sighed and Balthazar’s eyes lit up.

“Alright, you win.”

“Yes!”

“But!  I don’t want to worry about running across a one night stand—”

“Or one stall stand,” Balthazar sniggered.

“—the next day, so we need to go somewhere not close to campus.  I need a townie.”

“A townie?” Balthazar mused, his eyes gleaming.  “I think I know just the place.  There’s a bar called Purgatory right across the street from a bar/restaurant called the Roadhouse.”

Cas gave him a questioning look as he changed into a pair of tight, black jeans and an old band tee that might have actually belonged to an ex at one point.

“The Roadhouse is where all the townies hang out.  Until last call there which is at midnight.”

Cas scoffed as he began to apply some eyeliner to his lower eyelids.  “Who has last call at midnight on a Saturday night?”

“Apparently it’s kind of family friendly.  Anyway, the point is, after that place shuts down, the younger crowd shuffles over to Purgatory to keep drinking.  And that is where you will find a young, hot townie to fuck you in the dark, skanky bathrooms and give you that big Alpha knot that your slutty little Omega hole is aching for.”

Cas made a face and turned to look at Balthazar.  “Gross.”

“Don’t act like that won’t happen.”

“Maybe for you.  I’m not fucking anybody in a bathroom stall.  Especially not if I’m going to take a knot.”  Cas fidgeted with the shoelaces of his black Chucks.  “I don’t even know if I’m willing to do that.  I mean, I hate being knotted by strangers.  It’s such an intimate thing…but…”

“But?” Balthazar asked with an arched brow.

“I’m so horny,” Cas whined.  “I really need to get knotted.”

“Attaboy.  Let’s go before all the good ones are taken.”

Cas grabbed his cell phone and wallet, but rolled his eyes.  “It’s only ten; according to you we’ve got at least two hours before the townies show up.”

“So, we can flirt with all the angsty art majors until then.”

“Pass.  I’ll take the insufferable international relations majors.  They’re so fun to rile up.”

“Oh, tell me about it!  ‘What’s the big deal with Crimea anyway?  Why would Russia and Ukraine even care about a peninsula?  Maybe if it were an archipelago or something.’”

Cas snickered and locked his dorm room door; his roommate may or may not return that night.  Balthazar made a face as they walked through the fluorescent lit hallways.

“Only senior I know who still lives in student housing.”

“I’m an RA, Baz.  It means I don’t have to pay for it.”

“I know but…”  They watched two boys run through the hall naked, clutching their junk in one hand.  “Freshmen,” he shuddered.

~~~

At 12:08am on Sunday, the front door to Purgatory opened and four or five guys wearing leather jackets and disdainful looks entered the dimly lit bar that was vibrating with the massive baseline of some electronic house song booming through dozens of speakers.  Balthazar nudged Cas and even though he put his lips right against his ear, Cas could barely hear him.

“Right on time,” Balthazar said.  “Give them a moment to get to the bar and get a manly beer in their hands so that they can ignore they’re in a fruity college bar.”

Cas nodded vaguely and swallowed the last sip of his Long Island Iced Tea as he watched the locals make their way across the crowded dance floor to the black bar covered in glitter.  They really did look out of place, but Cas didn’t care because he had found his mark.  He was way too pretty to be an Alpha and much too large to be an Omega, but he was gorgeous.  Cas wasn’t really in the mood for a Beta tonight, but he knew what he wanted now that he had seen it.

He stood up and checked to make sure his balance was still intact—it was, so he figured he wasn’t too buzzed to be able to give consent.  Good enough.  He checked to make sure his wallet and cell phone were still in his back pockets, and then tossed Balthazar a wink.

“Too soon!” Balthazar mouthed.

Cas waved him off; Pretty Boy Beta was his.  Cas decided to take the most direct route to the bar and wound up having to dance and shimmy his way through some groping Alpha hands to do so.  It was a real testament to just how much he wanted the Beta if he could ignore his own libido telling him to follow one of those delicious smelling Alphas to a dark corner.

Cas walked right up to the Beta and would have been embarrassed by his forwardness, but he didn’t have time for subtly or flirting.  He needed to get laid; preferably within the next five to ten minutes.  He came up behind the guy and then pressed against his side as he leaned on the bar next to him.  The man’s eyes went slightly wide as he swallowed his sip of beer and turned to look at whatever had decided to start molesting him.

“Hey,” the guy said, voice low and warm.

“I’d ask you to buy me a drink,” Cas said, “but I don’t think I can wait that long.”

The guy’s eyes darkened and his scent followed, and now Cas could distinguish his scent from everyone else in the club.  This big-eyed, plush-lipped, pretty-faced Beta—was an _Alpha_.  Cas closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Oh fuck yes,” he moaned softly.  Looked like he was getting that knot after all.  When he opened his eyes the guy was tossing a twenty on the bar for his cheap beer and waving a hand at his friends.  They smirked as they watched him take Cas by the elbow and start to lead him away.  It annoyed Cas a little that they thought he was some stereotypical horny slut of an Omega (and yeah okay, tonight maybe that’s what he was), but he didn’t care because this Alpha was going to take care of him real good.  He just knew it.

He put the brakes on as he noticed the guy was heading for the bathrooms.  The Alpha turned back, looking curious but not angry—points for him.  Cas plastered himself against him and rose up on his toes to whisper in the guy’s ear.

“Not in there, want more than a blowjob.  I need a knot, honey.”

He felt the Alpha shiver under his fingers, and then he was abruptly leading him to the exit.  Cas grinned as he followed behind and gave Balthazar a jaunty little wave across the room who then saluted him with his drink.

The guy led him across the street toward the Roadhouse bar and it was strange enough that for a moment he wondered if the guy was a cop and was busting him for underage drinking.  Then he remembered he was of legal age to drink and the pheromones rolling off the aroused Alpha made him smell like he was practically in rut.  The guy led him around the back of the building and when he stopped to dig in his pockets for keys, Cas wrapped his arms around his neck and started kissing his jaw.  The Alpha chuckled and grabbed one of his ass cheeks with a very large hand.

“Hang on, sweetheart.  Be just a little more patient and I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

Cas sighed and nuzzled his nose under the guy’s jaw.  He loved his voice—it was so deep and rough.  Usually Alphas were turned off if their voices weren’t lower than the Omega they were fucking, but this guy didn’t have that problem.  The door opened and the Alpha dragged him inside and then up a flight of stairs.  They stumbled down a hallway because their lips were now joined, but the Alpha managed to guide them to the second door on the left, get them inside, and then slam the door shut with a foot.

As Cas was shoved against the door and felt a huge Alpha cock rubbing against his own, it did occur to him that going somewhere with a stranger when nobody knew where he was or who he was with was a really bad idea, but then the Alpha yanked his head back by the hair and growled as he went to town on his neck and Cas really couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.

Cas got his hands on the guy’s belt and worked it open.  The Alpha rucked his T-shirt up under his arms and immediately moved his hands to play with his nipples.  Cas mewled like a little bitch and writhed against him.  God, this was going to be embarrassing in the morning.  He better make sure he left long before that.  They stepped away from each other just long to discard their T-shirts, and then they were back together, stumbling across the small room to the double bed in the corner.

The Alpha pushed him onto the bed and then reached down to undo his fly and yank his jeans off, taking his shoes with them.  Cas sat propped up on his elbows, biting his lower lip as he watched the Alpha grab his boxers and yank those off as well.  The man gave him a dirty smile as he put a hand behind his thighs, pushing his legs up and out, and then buried his face in his groin.  Cas jerked and shouted as the Alpha went right for his hole.  He was wet, really wet, and the slurping sounds the Alpha made as he ate him out shouldn’t have been as hot as they made him feel.  Cas’ toes curled and he clutched at the sheets, tossing his head back and forth on the mattress.  He moaned in frustration when the guy pulled away, but then he sunk two fingers into him as he swallowed down his cock.

Cas sat up, gasping as he watched the Alpha suck him off.  Alphas rarely did this sort of thing and Cas was driven to the edge immediately.  He tugged on his hair and squirmed and couldn’t get out more than short, pathetic needy sounds rather than words.  The Alpha kept going until his body locked up and a low groan escaped his throat.  The orgasm was awesome, truly awesome, and he could feel the Alpha swallowing around him.  When he opened his eyes, the guy was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  Cas whimpered when he saw it and felt more slick pulse out him.  The man grinned and stuck his thumb in his hole, rolling it around in the loose, wet mess.

“This is what I love about Omegas,” the guy said, a little breathless.  “Stay horny and wet and desperate for you no matter how many times they come.  Need a knot to really be satisfied, don’t you?”

Cas nodded and spread his legs even farther apart.  The man removed his hands from Cas’ body and began to take off his jeans and underwear.  Cas’ eyes went wide and the Alpha let out a low, dirty chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Omega.  It’ll fit.”

Cas swallowed, kind of doubting him, but he slid up the bed and spread his legs, inviting the Alpha to try.  The man opened a drawer on a nightstand and fumbled quickly with a condom.  Once it was in place he crawled onto the bed between Cas’ legs and grabbed him behind the knees.  He lifted his legs and angled his hips up, leaving Cas at just the right place for the Alpha to slide into him.

“Kinda disappointed I don’t get to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock,” the Alpha murmured and Cas licked his lips reflexively, “but I have a feeling this will make up for it.”

The Alpha pushed in.  Cas bit his lip to keep from wincing as the head breached his rim.  And then he started to push in, the latex warmed by the heat of the man’s cock, and sliding easily through the slick he was still producing.  Cas’ mouth fell open and his eyes widened and his body went completely still.  It was so incredibly surreal to feel that huge cock opening him up, filling him, and pushing deep.

“Jesus,” Cas breathed, and then the Alpha pushed in another inch before Cas felt his balls against his ass.  There was just the slightest pressure on his rim from the knot already starting to form on the guy’s cock.  The Alpha rotated his hips and Cas moaned and arched against him.  When he opened his eyes the cocky fucker was smiling down at him like he’d just answered all of Cas’ prayers.  Cas would have been annoyed, but damn, guy might be right.

The man pulled out slowly, and then slid in again just as slow.  Cas exhaled carefully as his body vibrated with the nearly overwhelming desire to be knotted.  He knew it was his impending heat doing the talking there, but it’s what he really needed.

“Not gonna break,” Cas panted.

Fortunately the Alpha was up on his horny Omega translation manual.  He pulled out just as slow as before, but he slammed in so hard they slid an inch up the bed.  Cas stretched his arms over his head and braced his hands against the wall.

“Go.”

The Alpha went.

Cas let out a string of moans and swear words he didn’t even know he knew as the Alpha fucked into his hole so hard that within a few minutes his head was touching his hands against the wall.  The man had his arms wrapped around Cas’ hips and used the leverage to hold him place while he drilled into him at an inhuman pace.  Cas was practically a ragdoll in his hold, a willing and pliant fuck toy for his use.  His body was so saturated in endorphins he almost didn’t hear the guy straining to talk.

“Omega, sweetheart, I’m about to knot you.”

Cas smiled dreamily as he definitely felt the pull of the guy’s swelling knot.

“Want you to.”

“Want you to come again first.”

Cas giggled breathily.  “Already did.  Twice.”

The Alpha groaned and slammed their hips together, and it was so violent and so good that Cas could have sworn he actually felt the Alpha’s seed pumping into his body and warming his insides.  The sensation was enough for a fourth and final mini orgasm to shudder through his body.  The Alpha collapsed on top of him, panting harshly and causing his knot to pull a little uncomfortably on his hole, but the guy had more than earned a little break.  After a couple of minutes of Cas stroking his sweat-sheened back with a trembling hand, the Alpha wriggled to his knees, gathered Cas up in his arms, and then flipped over to his back.  Cas was able to settle more comfortably on top of his knot, and then lay down against his chest, his head tucked under the Alpha’s chin.

“S’good,” the Alpha mumbled sleepily.

Cas smiled and traced a pattern on the guy’s shoulder with his finger.  “Mm.  Not too shabby.”

“Brat,” he replied.

“Cas.”

“What?”

“My name is Cas, if you want to call me something.”

The man grunted, and then was silent.  Just when he thought he wasn’t going to get any other response, Cas heard the Alpha murmur, “Dean.”

Cas sighed and allowed himself to fall into that trance-like state that wasn’t exactly sleep, but did allow his body to recover during a knotting.  When whatever circadian rhythms allowed him to know when enough time had passed for an Alpha’s knot to go down brought him to full wakefulness about an hour later, it became apparent the Alpha had no such system and was completely out.  He didn’t snore, so that was nice.  Cas traced a finger down Dean’s nose and then over his lips.

“Dean,” he said softly.

He wondered if mutual attraction and really hot sex was enough of a reason to ask a one night stand if he’d like to not be a one night stand.  Cas knew he didn’t have time to date right now, but the thought of Dean being a one and done kind of thing seemed a little sad.  Then again, he knew nothing about the guy except that he was a good lay.  Cas had had good lays in the past, and he was certain he could find more in the future.  No sense in freaking the guy out after such a nice night together.  Of course, if Dean offered him his phone number and said he was available for booty calls, he wouldn’t turn him down.  He was busy, not crazy.

“Dean,” he repeated louder.

The Alpha stirred and then blinked his eyes open.  He looked like a little boy as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and that would have been cute if his massive cock wasn’t still inside of him.  He gave Cas a small smile when he saw him.

“Hey.  M’I down?”

“Yep.”

Cas got his feet under himself and slowly lifted his hips.  They both moaned with a spark of arousal as the Alpha’s cock slipped free.  Cas lay down on the bed and put his fingers to his hole, swimming in pleasure again.  He was still so wet he could actually feel his slick still dribbling out of him—although it felt a little sticky to be slick.

“Oh, fuck.”

Cas turned his head and opened his eyes to look at Dean.  His voice had been filled with trepidation and not “let’s squeeze in one more round before you go” pleasure.  Dean was looking at his crotch, and pulling off a round latex ring.  A piece of latex flapped from edge.  Cas sat up straight.

“Oh, fuck.”

“The condom broke,” Dean said pointlessly.  He gave Cas a sheepish smile.  “Guess we were a little too enthusiastic.”

Cas felt cold dread raining down over his body.  He looked down at his fingers, the ones that had been playing with his hole, and saw that there was definitely Alpha spunk mixed with his slick on them.

“Shit,” Cas hissed.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Dean said.  “I got tested like six months ago.  Totally clean.  You?”

“I, what?” Cas asked distractedly as he got up from the bed and reached into himself to pull some of the semen out.  Not that it mattered; they’d been tied up together for an hour by now.  That’s all it took sometimes.

“You clean?” Dean asked.

“Um, yes.  Last I was tested I was fine.  I actually haven’t had sex in a while.”

“So, we’re good.  No harm, no foul.”

“I’m not on birth control!” Cas snapped.

The smile on Dean’s face froze for a moment, and then he laughed it off.  “So?  You’re not in heat.  You can’t get pregnant if you’re not in heat.”

“Jesus,” Cas muttered as he used a tissue from the box on the nightstand to clean off his hands.  “Don’t they teach you Alphas anything in sex ed class?”  Cas found his boxers on the floor and angrily jumped into them.  “Yes, Omegas can only get pregnant during their heat cycle, but that time frame also extends to the one or two days before and after the actual heat.”

Dean was finally starting to look a little concerned.  “But, you’re like, not anywhere near your heat cycle, right?” he asked weakly.

Cas pulled on his jeans and gave him a look.  “I’m like one day out.  Why did you think I was so horny?”

Dean looked down at himself and then gave him a smile.  Cas rolled his eyes, aiming for annoyed, but his smile definitely ruined the effect.

“Hey, look, Cas, I know it sucks, but you don’t have to run right off.”

“There’s a twenty-four hour clinic on Wilshire.  Sometimes they keep the morning after pill on hand there.  If not, I’ll have to wait until the pharmacies open in the morning.”

Dean raised a judgmental eyebrow as he leaned back against the pillows that had been shoved to one corner of the bed.

“Familiar with the place, then?”

Cas shot him a nasty look.  “I’m not a frequent customer if that’s what you’re implying.  I went there once with a friend because his dick of boyfriend claimed he would pull out before he knotted up.”

Dean laughed.  “Yeah, I feel like your friend should have known better.”

“He did.”  Cas’ gaze fell to Dean’s lap.  “But you’d be amazed how stupid Omegas can be when we’re near our heats.”

Dean grinned and stroked his thumb along his thigh.

“Well, as long as you’ve got to take the morning after pill anyway, why don’t you hop back on and we’ll do it bareback for real?”

To his horror, Cas was tempted.  So tempted that he felt fresh slick forming in his hole.  Dean’s smile widened when he caught the scent, but Cas shook his head and picked his T-shirt up off the floor.

“Sorry, Dean.  My body wants to, and you know it.  But, it’s probably for the best if we part ways now.  Thanks for a good time.  It was really great up until the end there.”

Dean’s expression fell into mild displeasure.  “So that’s it?  I get a handshake and a ‘job well done?’”

“You want a kiss?”

“Maybe.”

Cas sat on the bed and retied his shoelaces.  Then he looked over at Dean who was still naked and relaxed.  This must be his home.  Cas turned to put a knee on the bed and leaned over to place a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips.

“Job well done, Alpha.”

Dean snorted and nudged his shoulder.  “Get out of here,” he said, but he was teasing.

Cas smiled and slid off the bed.

“You know, everyone always thinks that Alphas are just horny assholes who hit it and quit it, but you Omegas are some cold-hearted sons of bitches.”

Cas smiled as he walked toward the door.  He kind of liked that description.  He turned back when he put his hand on the knob.

“You want my number, Dean?”

“I want your mouth on my cock.”

Cas tsked at him.  “Should have thought of that before.”  Then he walked out the door and took the stairs down to the first floor with a decided sway to his hips.  Nothing like fucking an Alpha into his place to make a man feel like a real Omega.

~~~

Cas was going to throw up—and for once he couldn’t blame it on the morning sickness.

Oh fuck.

His brain panicked again.  Morning sickness.  That’s what had been going on for the last few weeks.  He looked at the third home pregnancy test he’d taken that day, sitting innocuously on the vanity in the bathroom of Balthazar’s apartment.  A pink plus sign looked back at him.  The one next to it had two blue lines.  The one next to that had a digital read out that said “pregnant.”

Cas leaned against the wall and slid to the floor with his hands over his face.  How had this happened?  When a condom broke there was still an average 82% chance that it would do its job.  When taking the morning after pill within twenty-four hours of having unprotected sex, the efficacy rate was 95%.  Somehow he was the asshole who had thwarted both of those statistics and was the guy who had a—he paused to do the math in his head—0.9% chance of getting pregnant and _had_.

Cas started at the soft knock on the door.

“Cassie?  You okay in there?  I guess I know what the results are.”

“Balthazar,” Cas whispered, his voice trembling, “I am so screwed.”

~~~

Cas approached the door of the Roadhouse Bar & Grill for the third time, but this time he managed to grab the handle and open it.  He stepped inside the cool interior, grateful to get out of the steamy June heat wave.  It was 1:30 on a Monday afternoon, so the place was basically deserted.  There was a man sitting at the bar with a large array of papers spread out before him and a sweating beer bottle to his right.  There was a girl about his age behind the bar checking the liquor levels in the bottles on the shelves.  As Cas approached the bar he had to do a double take as he caught sight of a man sleeping on a pool table in the other room.

Cas stopped just behind the girl and placed his hands on the back of the bar stool.  He glanced at the man with the paperwork.  He wasn’t looking at him, but Cas knew he was aware of him and keeping tabs on him.  He was an Alpha, but Cas didn’t think the man’s attention was sexual.  The girl was an Omega and on the very, very rare occasions Cas hooked up with other Omegas, they were typically female and looked like her—petite and delicate.

He cleared his throat and the girl turned around.  She had long blonde hair, pretty brown doe eyes, and a cynical look of disdain on her face and she gave him a once over.

“You lost, Omega?”

Cas was little taken aback at her attitude, but he clenched his hands on the stool and tried to focus on why he was here.

“Um, not exactly.  I’m looking for—someone.  He may work here.  Or he may just live here.”

“Oh, well, if you’re looking for a border, they usually only stay one or two nights.  He probably moved on.  We don’t have any borders right now.”

Cas’ heart sank to his stomach.  Had Dean just been passing through?  Would he never be able to find the guy?  Not that it mattered since he only needed one thing from him, but for some reason it was disheartening to think that he’d never see him again.  It just seemed odd though; Dean had seemed so at home in that room.

“Oh.  He might be an employee though.”

“You’re lookin’ at the employees,” the girl said, spreading her arms out.

That obviously couldn’t be true if the bar did any kind of business on the weekends, but fortunately the gruff Alpha in the baseball cap came to his aid.

“He might be talkin’ ‘bout one of them two idjits.”

The girl pursed her lips together.  “If he is I bet I know which one.”

“I bet I do too.”

Cas’ brow creased in confusion and annoyance as he was left on the outside of this conversation.  The girl slung the towel hanging over her shoulder onto the bar and started to walk away.

“Wait here.  I’ll get him.”

“But you don’t even know who—”  He cut off as the girl disappeared behind a swinging door.

“Lookin’ for Dean, right?” the man asked, still not looking at him.

Somehow, Cas managed to feel like he was sinking even lower.

“Does this happen often?” Cas asked feebly.

“Not as often as you’d think.  Though you’re a might less screamy and ranty than they usually are.”

Cas leaned heavily on the bar stool.  At least his morning sickness obeyed its moniker and only came in the morning.  From behind the swinging door there came the noise of a few voices sniping at each other.  Cas actually recognized the deep rumble of Dean’s voice, and wasn’t that a kick in his already failing heart?

The door swung open and the girl came out followed by an older woman, Dean, and a really tall Alpha with long hair.  They were all trying to talk over each other and it appeared the other three were ganging up on Dean.  Cas scowled, suddenly in a foul mood.  Look at this stupid Alpha—enjoying his life, immune to the consequences of shoddy technology.  Dean stopped talking when he caught sight of Cas.  For one painful moment, Cas thought he was going to pretend like he didn’t recognize him—or worse, actually not recognize him—but then he put on his cockiest smile and leaned on the bar across from him.

“Heya.  Heard you were looking for me.  Couldn’t stop thinking about it, could ya?”

“Gross, Dean,” the tall Alpha said and walked out from behind the bar.

The little Omega rolled her eyes and the woman, who Cas could tell was a Beta thanks to his pregnancy-increased sensitive nose, swatted at Dean’s head with a towel.

“Don’t be crass in my bar, boy.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but leaned closer and lowered his voice.  He smirked and said, “That good, huh?”

Cas’ scowl only grew crankier.  Dean leaned back a little, losing some of his confidence.

“That’s not it?  Why else would you be looking for me?”

Cas’ scowled morphed into a death glare.

Dean suddenly straightened.  “Oh.  Shit.”

Less than two minutes later they were through the kitchen and into the back of the building, which Cas now recognized, and up the stairs into Dean’s room with the door shut and locked.  Cas leaned against the door as he watched Dean pace and run a hand through his hair.  He kept glancing at Cas, but never quite meeting his eyes.

Cas looked around the room, realizing he hadn’t noticed a single thing about it the last time he’d been there.  There was a dresser and a couple of bookshelves stuffed to capacity; Led Zeppelin and Metallica posters covered the walls; there was an odd six pointed star (but not a Star of David) drawn in each of the four corners of the room.  The space was clean and tidy, which he hadn’t been expecting—even the bed was made up.  Cas felt heat rise in his cheeks as he looked at the bed.  He ignored the memories and focused on Dean instead.

In the daylight he looked a bit different.  Cas was at least grateful he hadn’t been affected by beer goggles that night.  Dean was still beautiful, but younger looking than he remembered.  He was probably Cas’ age or horrifyingly, a little younger.  His eyes were green—a fact he had missed that night—and had a smattering of freckles across his nose.  God he hoped he hadn’t banged a high schooler.

“How old are you?”  Cas asked.

“Twenty-three,” Dean said.  “You?”

Cas was surprised to hear that; he supposed he just looked young.  “Twenty-one.”

Dean nodded and stopped pacing.  “Could be worse.  We definitely wouldn’t qualify for a reality show on MTV.”

Cas smiled despite himself.  “Probably not.”

Dean wrung his hands.  “Look, dude, I was responsible.  I tried to be.  I used a condom.”

“I know, I was there.”

“What happened to the morning after pill?  Did you take it?”

Cas nodded.  “Didn’t work.”

“Apparently.”

They both went quiet and stood in awkward silence for a long, protracted moment.  Finally, Cas shifted his weight and crossed his arms defensively.

“Look, I’m not here asking you to make an honest Omega out of me and mate me.”

Dean tried to disguise his sigh of relief—and failed.

“I just need you to split the cost and give me a ride to and from the clinic.  That’s all.”

Dean bobbed his head, and then tilted it in momentary confusion.

“Wait, I don’t get it.  You need me to help pay for what and drive you the doctor’s office?  One time?  I mean, it’ll be more than that, right?”

“No, Dean,” Cas said, a little incredulous.  “It’s four hundred and fifty dollars, so I’m going to need you to kick in two fifty if you can.  At least one  seventy-five because I can cover the rest if I need to.  I’ve made the appointment for this Thursday.  I need you to pick me up and drive me there, wait, and then drive me home since I’ll probably still be loopy.”

Dean looked way more perplexed than the situation warranted.  “Loopy from what?”

Cas put his hands on his hips.  “The abortion,” he said slowly.

“Oh!  No.  No way.  You can’t have an abortion.”

“Excuse me?” Cas asked.  “It’s just a mass of cells right now, like a tumor.  I can most certainly choose to have that removed from my body.”

“Jesus, what did they teach you Omegas in sex ed class?” Dean threw his words back at him.  “It’s gotta be, what, three months by now?  It has a head and eyes.  It even has a tail.”

Cas let out a noise and dropped his hands to his side.  “Yes, and one day it will have a mouth that wants food, hands that tear everything up, and an asshole that will shit.  On. Everything.”

Dean gave him a sardonic smile.  “Not a baby person, huh?”

“No, not really.  That’s why I want to get rid of it.”

“Cas, no, please.  You can’t.”

“And you can’t tell me what to do with my child!”

“Oh, so all of a sudden it’s a child, not a tumor or an it, and it’s _yours_?  You didn’t make it alone, sweetheart.  He’s mine too.”

“It’s not anything, Dean.  And don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Don’t I get any say in this at all?”

“No, of course not.”

“That’s not really fair.”

“Fair?  You want to talk about fair?  Have you been puking your guts out for the last six weeks?  No?  Didn’t think so.  Are your hormones out of whack because you got shoved out of your cycle?  No?  You do look pretty well adjusted.  Look, I get how easy it is from your point of view to just say ‘It’s no big deal, just have it,’ but you don’t have to carry it.  So you don’t have to think immediately how keeping it is a lifetime commitment.  It’s not just while it’s a baby or for eighteen years.  Being a father means always being there, Dean.  Past high school, when the kid starts college and gets a job and has to move and gets mated and has babies.  It’s a drain on your money, your health, and it changes your lifestyle.  Forever.  There’s no going back from a decision like this.  No do overs or I’m tired of this.  Because as the Alpha, you can just walk away if you get bored, but I’ll be stuck with it.

“Stuck with it and working some shitty minimum wage job because an unmated, pregnant Omega can’t get a real job no matter what the laws say.  The prejudices are still there and they’ll find some way around it.  I just graduated college with a degree in chemical engineering.  I have a great job lined up at a top company.  If they find out I’m pregnant, I’ll lose that job.  I can’t keep it.  I have a life ahead of me, and it doesn’t involve staying at home and raising some stranger’s kid!”

Cas looked down and tried to choke back his tears.  He didn’t know why he was so upset.  No, he did.  He was pregnant.  He started when he felt the hand on his shoulder, but then allowed Dean to pull him into his embrace.

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s alright.  You’re right, I hadn’t thought about all that.”  Cas snuffled against his shirt and curled into his warmth.  The scent of an Alpha—no, his baby’s father—made him feel calmer and safer than he had since he’d started to suspect the truth almost two months ago.  “But even knowing all that, I’m willing to do it.”

Cas pulled back and looked up into his eyes.  “What?”

Dean raised his hands and cupped Cas’ face, wiping his tears with his thumbs.

“It’s completely your decision, I understand that, but please, reconsider it.  I will be there every step of the way.”

The funny thing was that Cas did believe him.  But so what?  Some guy who lived in a bedroom above a bar was going to help him support a child?  Cas shook his head.

“I’m sorry.  I’ve made my decision.  You can pick me up in front of 352 Lasso Drive at 8:30 on Thursday morning; my appointment is at 9:00.”

Dean’s complexion was a little ashen as he released Cas’ face and stepped back.  He nodded and swallowed thickly before managing to get out an “Okay.”

Cas turned and pulled on the handle.  The door stayed shut because it was locked.  Cas growled softly and undid the lock, pulling the door open a little more forcefully than he intended.  He hurried down the stairs and took the back door out the building so he wouldn’t have to face Dean’s—family, was the only thing those people could have been.  He wondered how they would take the news, or if Dean would even tell them.  Cas had no intention of telling his parents.  He was grateful Balthazar was letting him stay at his place since graduation.  Three more days and then this would be over.  He could get out of Balthazar’s hair and move back home with his parents until August which was the start date his future employer had given him.  Just three more days.

Cas ignored the gnawing feeling in his stomach, dismissing it as some sort of baby-spawned malady.

~~~

Thursday morning Cas felt nauseated, but it wasn’t the morning sickness he’d been experiencing.  He dismissed it as just nervousness.  Nervousness that Dean wouldn’t show up, or that he would show up and try to talk him out of it again.  He looked at the Post-It note in his hand; there were two addresses written down.  He flicked the paper several times with a finger.  Other than that movement, he stood stock still outside of Balthazar’s building, unable to appreciate the morning sunlight reflecting off the dew on the grass that hadn’t yet evaporated.  It would be gone soon though; Cas could already feel that today was going to be another scorcher.  At least he was going to get to spend most of it indoors, curled up on Balthazar’s couch, chowing down on pain killers.

The rumble of a loud muscle car broke Cas out of his somber thoughts.  His eyebrows shot up when he saw the sleek, and kind of ugly, black car pull into the circular drive.  The car turned off and Dean stepped out.  Cas gave him an impressed look.

“Nice car.”

Dean managed a small smile.  “Knew I liked you for a reason, sweetheart.”

Cas paused as he approached the car and that enabled Dean to get around the side and open the door for him.

“Why with the sweetheart?” He asked.

“Got that look off your face.”

“What look?”

“Like your heart is breaking.”

Cas was stunned for a moment, and then he scowled and got into the car, slamming the door shut after him.  He waited until Dean was in his own seat before he addressed him.

“Don’t even try.  Don’t try to guilt me into doing anything.”

Dean put his hands in the air.  “I have no agenda.  I was just making an observation.”

Cas sat back in the seat in a huff, feeling a little unsafe with only a lap belt to hold him place.

“Just like I’m observing you look a little pale.  Have you eaten this morning?”

“No, Dean, I haven’t eaten this morning.  You can’t eat or drink after midnight the day of your procedure.”

“Oh.”

Dean started the car and put it in gear.  “Why?”

“Because the anesthesia might make me sick.”

“You’re going to be completely under for this?”

“No, not completely.  It’ll put me in a semi-lucid state.  It—do you care?”

“Yes,” Dean said harshly and had to slam on the brakes before he pulled out in front of a car.  He inhaled deeply, and then exhaled as he pulled out onto the now empty road.  “Look, Cas, I know we spent all of two hours in each other’s company, but you’re still a person who deserves to be cared for, regardless of how well I know you.  And until it’s not anymore, that’s still my kid in there and I care about that too.”

The warm, pleasant feeling that had begun to settle over Cas with Dean’s protective words immediately was washed away with his last sentence.  Cas turned into the door and stared out the window.  He heard Dean sigh and the brakes squeal softly as they came to a stop.

“Where we going?  I need directions.”

Cas looked down at the Post-It note with the two addresses.  His thumb smoothed over the top one, and his eyes looked at the second one.

“Cas?”

Cas crumpled the note in his hand.  “Do you know where Prosperity Drive is?”

“Uh, I think so.  It’s the one that’s north of Palafox, right?”

“Yes.  Go to Prosperity.  I don’t know if it’s a left or a right turn, but we’re looking for 4351.”

“Okay.”

They drove in silence for fifteen minutes.  When they parked in the parking lot of the building, Cas made no move to get out and neither did Dean.  The Alpha just leaned forward to look out his windshield at the middling height, new construction building.

“Hunh.  This doesn’t look like a free clinic.”

“It’s not,” Cas muttered.

“Then where are we?”

Cas sat up straight and picked at the loose skin on his thumb.  Dean covered his hands with one of his to stop him before he did some damage.

“Where are we, Cas?”

Cas looked up with a defiant look and met Dean’s eyes.  “It’s an OB-GYN I looked up.  One of the top rated in the city.  You had better have good insurance because I don’t have any and I am about to blow my chances with the only decent job offer I’m ever going to get.”

With that, Cas opened the car door, got out, and slammed it shut.  He marched up to the glass doors of the building and realized Dean had gotten his butt in gear and followed him as he appeared at his side in time to pull the door open for him.

“Stop smiling,” Cas snapped at him.

Dean managed to repress his grin for about three seconds, and then it was back in place as they rode the elevator to the fifth floor.  Cas allowed Dean to guide him as he shot off an email to the clinic, telling them he wasn’t going to make his appointment.  The waiting room was crowded with Omegas in various stages of pregnancy and their bored-looking mates, and young single Omegas and Betas who were probably there for a routine visit.  The smell of the ripe Omegas was nearly overpowering the air neutralizer the office was pumping into the room.

Cas took his time filling out the paperwork—stalling he realized.  He could still walk out of here.  Heck, if he went to the clinic now he could probably still keep his appointment.  He was also nervous about committing insurance fraud as he used Dean’s insurance card and put down that he was one of Dean’s dependents.  That relationship covered all manner of sins, legally speaking, and he supposed it technically applied to this situation too.

After forty-five minutes of waiting and a somewhat tense silence after Dean had said that Cas wouldn’t regret this decision and Cas had snapped back that he already was, Dean broke the quiet by asking, “You think they validate parking?”

Cas turned his head slowly to look at him.

“What?  Only the first hour is free.”

“Castiel Novak?”

“Here,” Cas replied out of habit.

“We can see you now.  Your mate can come too.”

Cas didn’t bother to correct her in a room full of people.  He glanced back at the man and saw him mouthing, “Cas _tiel_?” at him.  Cas narrowed his eyes at him.

The nurse took his weight and blood pressure (it was surprisingly not elevated) and then led them to a small examining room with a counter with a sink in it, a regular chair, a stool on wheels, and a table with stirrups on it.  Cas was already feeling humiliated.  He didn’t want to do this with Dean here, but he knew he couldn’t send him away now.

“Castiel,” the nurse said, “please strip down completely and put this on.”  She handed him a paper robe and then left the room.

“She’s not very observant, is she?” Cas asked as he began to shuck his clothes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re clearly not mated; she should have asked you to wait outside.”

“You want me to leave?”

“At this point, why bother?”

Cas was naked except for his underwear, folding his shirt and jeans and placing them on the chair.  He was about to put on the paper robe when he saw a hand near his abdomen.  He started and the hand jerked back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean said.

Cas looked at him and he was blushing furiously and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I should have asked.”  He swallowed.  “Can I?” he asked.

Cas was confused.  Dean looked down at his stomach again.  Cas’ face heated up.

“Y-you won’t be able to feel anything.  I’m not even showing.”

“Can I?” Dean repeated softly.

Cas slowly lowered the paper robe and turned part way toward Dean.  The Alpha stepped close and hooked his thumb in Cas’ boxers to pull them down below his hip bones.  Then he slid his large, warm hand across the sensitive skin of Cas’ abdomen.  He cupped the very slight curve that was just the natural shape of his body and not the baby at all, but the gesture was so intimate, Cas shivered and put his hand on top of Dean’s.  With his heart in his throat Cas turned his head to look at Dean.  Dean was looking down at him intently.  They were so close and the air was permeating with pheromones—protectiveness, possessiveness—arousal.

They startled apart when some rapped sharply at the door.

“Are you ready for me?” the doctor called through the wood.

“Just a moment!” Cas said.  He slipped on the robe and pushed his boxers the rest of the way down.  He tossed them onto his clothes on the chair, and then hopped up onto the table.  He nodded to Dean and the Alpha let the doctor in.  She was a Beta and Cas thought that might be the only reason she didn’t scrunch up her nose and shoot them dirty looks when she walked in.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Flagstaff.  Okay.  So, Castiel Novak is my Omega and the other father is a—” She looked up and smiled.  “Clearly an Alpha.”

Dean smiled, half bashful and half cocky.  Cas rolled his eyes and tried not to picture clipping the woman’s fingertips off.

“So, Castiel—”

“Cas, is fine.”

“Cas.  When was your last heat?”

“It was from March 30th to April 2nd.  But I know the date of conception.  It was March 28th.”

“Well, most Omegas can detect a shift in their hormones and somewhat accurately predict the conception date, but we tend to go from the last day of one’s heat.”

“March 28th is the _only_ day it could have happened.”

The doctor looked between them, finally seemed to notice they were unmated, and had an a-ha moment.

“Ah, I see.”

Cas would have felt awkward, but Dean distracted him by saying, “Technically wouldn’t it be the 29th?  It was after midnight after all.”

Cas glared at him and the doctor smiled to herself as she wrote something down in her chart.

“Okay, so that means you’re at about eleven and a half weeks.  Is this your first visit to a doctor?”

Cas nodded.

“Okay, put your feet in the stirrups,” Dr. Flagstaff said as she pushed the offending metal objects together so that Cas would be able to lay back without being spread like an abacus.  He settled back against the crinkly paper and the woman pulled over the large white machine that took up most of the available space in the room.  Then she put another paper robe over his legs and told Cas to pull up the top portion.  Then she squirted some cold jelly onto his stomach and Cas flinched.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  It’s just a little cold.”

The doctor took out the sonogram wand and began to rub it around the gel on Cas’ abdomen.  She turned on the machine and the odd echo-y sounds it made filled the room.  She moved the wand around some more.

“Now, at almost twelve weeks, we should definitely be able to hear…”

She stopped moving the wand and the screen showed a hollow space in Cas’ abdomen, and without her even pointing it out, both Cas and Dean could see the little jelly bean curled up toward the bottom middle.  Another sound filled the room, fast, but steady.

“There’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Flagstaff said.

“Holy shit,” Cas breathed.  “I mean, sorry, baby.  Holy crap.”

Dean leaned over him to look closely at the monitor.

“Kind of bald.  He probably gets that from my grandfather.”

“You don’t know it’s a he.”

“Sure I do.  Look at that,” he pointed to the screen.

“That,” the doctor said with amusement, “is an arm.”

“Oh.”  Dean straightened with a sheepish smile and shrugged at Cas.

“It’s much too early to determine the sex.  From a sonogram anyway.  We could perform an amniocentesis and do a genetic work up on the baby to screen for defects or potential risk factors.”

Cas shook his head.  “No.  For better or worse, this mistake is happening.”

“You know,” Dean said musingly, “one day when he’s fifteen, and he’s screaming that he hates me and he just wants you—I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

Cas let out an aggravated noise and shot a look at Dean, but Dean’s smile went all the way to his eyes and it made something warm and comforting pulse in his chest.  Cas looked away and took the tissue from the doctor to wipe off his abdomen.

“You think you’ll still be around when he’s fifteen?” he asked softly, concentrating on his task.

“I said I would.  I know you don’t know me, so let me tell you something about me.  Look at me.”

Cas looked up and met Dean’s eyes.

“I keep my promises.”

Cas continued to stare into Dean’s eyes, looking for any signs of deception or weakness.  He found none.  The doctor cleared her throat and Cas snapped his eyes from Dean’s to look at her.

“I’m going to have a nurse come in and draw blood and give you a cup for a urine sample so we can test your glucose levels and a few other things.  I’m also going to provide you with a list of banned products and activities, and ones you should seriously consider taking out of your diet.”

Dean patted Cas’ shoulder.  “I’ll take on your share of the alcohol, Cas, don’t you worry.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“I’ll let you put your clothes back on, and after the nurse has collected the blood and urine samples, we can all have a seat in my office and you can ask me any questions you have.”

“Thank you, Dr. Flagstaff,” Cas said.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean added.  Then he said, “Flagstaff is kind of an unusual last name.  Did your family found that town or something?”

“No,” the doctor said with a laugh.  “My last name has many syllables and is difficult to pronounce.  I use Flagstaff as a nickname that’s easier for people to wrap their lips around.  I grew up there.  Have you ever been?”

“Once.  A long time ago.  My father took my brother and me on a trip to the Grand Canyon, and we swung through Sedona and Flagstaff on our way out of the state.”

“It is beautiful country,” Dr. Flagstaff said with a wistful smile.  “I’ll see you two shortly.”

The doctor exited the room and Dean turned to Cas.

“It’s really not.  It’s all one color scheme and way too hot.”

“Dean,” Cas admonished, but all he got was an unrepentant grin in response.

They left the doctor’s office about half an hour later and Cas was somehow both reassured and more concerned.  There was just so much that could go wrong with a pregnancy, especially for male Omegas.  Dr. Flagstaff recommended a caesarian right off the bat because it was often difficult and more painful for a male to give birth through his narrower pelvis.  It had been good to have his questions answered, but it really was an unpleasant conversation.

“I’m starving,” Dean announced as they pulled out of the parking lot (the office did validate).  “I know it’s barely eleven, but I figured we could find a diner somewhere that’s serving breakfast and lunch so you can get whatever you’re craving.”

“You read my mind—”  Cas cut off as he realized he was going to call the Alpha by his last name, but couldn’t.  “What’s your last name, Dean?”

“Winchester.  Good name, right?”

Cas shrugged.  “It’s not impossible to spell, I’ll give you that.”

“Better than Novak,” he grumbled.  “You’re not gonna make the kid hyphenate, are you?”

“No,” Cas said.

“So, he’ll be a Winchester.”

“It will be a Novak.”

Dean made a right turn in the parking lot of a Silver Diner and parked the car in a spot close to the door.  He turned the engine off and turned to face Cas.

“I’ll make you a deal, Cas.”

Cas quirked an eyebrow.

“If I’m right, and it’s a boy, he’ll be a Winchester.  But if you’re right and I’m an idiot who can’t possibly know the sex of the child, then she’ll be a Novak.”

“That’s ridiculous.  You can’t possibly know the gender, and it being a boy won’t change that.”

Dean just stuck out his hand.  Cas rolled his eyes and shook it.

“Fine.  Baby Boy Winchester or Baby Girl Novak.”

Dean grinned.  “That’s settled.  Let’s get some grub.”

Cas ate ravenously even though diner fare wasn’t his usual preference for food.  In fact, since he’d decided to keep the baby, he should probably be eating healthier.  He figured this could be his last hurrah before he completely gave up caffeine and started living off of kale and liver.

The conversation never lulled, mainly because Dean was quite talkative when he was at ease, and Cas learned that he liked this Alpha.  He liked him a lot and couldn’t be more grateful that his child’s father was a good man.  Dean had had a rough childhood, but he had a strong network of support now, one he offered without reserve to Cas.  Cas had reluctantly shared that his parents probably weren’t going to be so accepting of the whole situation.  He also told Dean that he was going to go through with taking the job at the engineering company he’d worked so hard to secure an offer from.  He didn’t know if they would eventually find a reason to fire him, but for now, he wasn’t going to give up his aspirations for this kid.

When Dean pulled into Balthazar’s apartment complex, he bypassed the circular drive and headed for a visitor parking space.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked, alarmed.  He wasn’t sure he was ready to introduce him to Balthazar.

“I’m parking so I can walk you up.”

“Walk me—Dean stop.”

Dean hit the brakes and they both jolted forward slightly.  Cas sighed and looked out the passenger side window.

“Dean, this wasn’t a date.”

“I—I didn’t think it was.  I was just being polite.”

“I know,” Cas said, feeling a little guilty as he looked down at his fidgeting hands, “and I appreciate it.  You have been more than I could have hoped for in this situation, and I’ll be eternally grateful that you decided to stick around through the whole thing.  But I never wanted to be one of those Omegas who had to get mated because they never got a career of their own or got knocked up.”

“I’m not asking you to mate me, Cas.  I mean, I might ask you on a date, but—”

“But I don’t want that either,” Cas said, finally looking at Dean.  He immediately wished he hadn’t.  The Alpha looked embarrassed and hurt—and he was doing a bad job of hiding it.  “What would have happened if this hadn’t happened?  Would we have ever seen each other again?  It was just a one night stand.  We shouldn’t alter our lives because of something like this.”

“Something like this is _why_ people alter their lives, Cas.  You just make the changes that you want to.  There’s no one forcing any expectations on you.  And doing something that is ‘expected’ of you isn’t necessarily the wrong thing to do.”

“But is dating some guy you picked up in a bar something you would ordinarily do?  I don’t like the idea of having to change who you fundamentally are just to—”

“Cas, relax.  It’s okay.  We won’t date.  You have enough on your plate as it is.  But.  I do wonder what would have happened if the condom hadn’t broken.”

“Then we definitely wouldn’t be here now,” Cas said, thinking that proved his point.

“Are you sure?  If the condom hadn’t broken, you wouldn’t have felt the need to rush out the door.  You might’ve stayed for round two.  You might have fallen asleep in my bed and we would have woken up together the next morning.  And then, who knows?  Maybe it would have been an awkward goodbye.  Maybe you would have accepted my invitation for breakfast.  Maybe our one night stand would have turned into more.”

Cas let out a small laugh and indicated his stomach.  “Well, technically it did.”

Dean smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  “It’s okay, Cas.  Here, take this.”  Dean pulled out his wallet and then dug out a business card.  He opened the glove box and got out a pen which he used to write some information down on the back of the card.  “That’s my cell and email, and the landline for the Roadhouse.  The number on this card is where I work.  Always feel free to reach out to me if you need anything.  Even if it’s just to talk.  Please let me know about any more doctor appointments.  Also, Ellen will want to plan a baby shower, so we’ll have to direct her to anyone you know who’d want to throw one.”

Cas grimaced.  “God.  Baby shower.  Horrible party games and half-cold appetizers.”

Dean chuckled.  “I hope our son gets your positive outlook on life.”

Cas shot him an annoyed look.

“Hey, it’s free swag, right?  I’ll be more than happy not to have to pay for a crib and a car seat and all that stuff.”

“That’s a good point.  I’m sure my friend Balthazar and my sister will be interested in throwing a shower.”

“Perfect.  We’ll just sit back and let the presents roll in.”

Cas was silent a moment as he toyed with the business card, looking at Dean’s neat handwriting.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said quietly.  “Not only for being calm and helpful, but for understanding about the whole not dating thing.”

Dean shrugged, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.  Cas opened the car door.

“I’ll call you,” he said.

He got out and stood aside as he watched Dean turn the car around and then drive away.  Cas turned the business card over and read, “Singer Automotive: Classic Car Restorations.”  He hadn’t known what he expected Dean’s job to be, but this seemed fitting.  He looked up, searching for the car as the rumbling growl of the engine faded from his ears.  He couldn’t see it.  Cas inhaled deeply and prepared himself for facing Balthazar; it was fifty-fifty if he would be happy for Cas or think he’d gone insane.

~~~

Cas was pissed.  More than pissed.  He was furious and he had no one but himself to blame.  No, it was Dean’s fault.  All of it was.  What an asshole.  Here he was eight and a half months pregnant, and there that stupid knothead was going out on dates and laughing and smiling at thin, pretty un-bloated blonde Betas.  Asshole.  So what if Cas had been the one to tell him that he didn’t want to date?  So what if Cas had even more firmly asserted that notion after Cas’ parents had demanded they get mated before the baby was born?  So what if Cas had panicked and told his boss that he had a fiancé and they were postponing the mating until after the birth and he’d forced Dean to show up at a company function and pose as his mate-in-promise—and proceeded to take advantage of that fact by holding his hand, leaning against him, and kissing him at will the entire evening?  So what if Cas was hormonal and irrational and unreasonable and didn’t want Dean for himself but would be damned if some other bitch put her hands on his—his—child’s father.

“Cas!” Dean called after him as Cas stomped—waddled—his way across the Roadhouse parking lot.  “Jesus Christ, slow down before you hurt yourself!”

“I’m not an invalid!” Cas shot back and waddled even faster.

Dean caught up to him easily at slow jog.

“What is going on?  Why are you leaving?  And why is Lydia covered in water?”

“I, I…” Cas huffed, slightly out of breath from his exertion as he reached the sensible and safe Honda Civic he’d financed with his second paycheck.  “I missed.  I was aiming for you.  Not that she didn’t also deserve it,” Cas grumbled.

Dean looked utterly perplexed.  “The fuck is going on?”

“Why are you on a date?” Cas hissed.  “I’m about to pop out your kid and you’re off cavorting with some trampy Beta.”

Dean looked confused and put out a hand.  “Can Betas really be considered trampy?”

“Yes!”

“Wait, sorry, wrong question.  Cas.  I know when you’re scheduled to have the C-section.  I have my cell phone on me if something comes up and you need me.  You don’t care when I hang out with Sam.”

“Because he’s your brother!  And she’s-she’s…” Cas trailed off and searched in his messenger bag for the car keys; he knew he should have paid extra for the keyless entry and start up.

“Because she’s a date?  So what?  You don’t want me.”

“You’re right.  I don’t.  I wish you both joy.”

Cas found the key and got the door open.  Dean was around the car and by his side in an instant.  He grabbed Cas by the arm and wouldn’t let him get into the car.

“Let me go, Dean!”

The Alpha leaned down and kissed him.  Cas was startled and put up a hand to push him back, but all his fingers did was curl into Dean’s shirt and pull him closer.  The kiss was wild and angry and Cas felt himself slipping into that dark scary well of feelings that had been steadily growing for the Alpha in the months since their acquaintance began.  Then Cas pushed Dean hard enough that it broke the kiss and made him take a couple of steps back.

“Jesus.  I’m not jealous!  I’m not begging for the big, strong Alpha to help my poor, pathetic Omega fuck up of a self.”

“That’s not why—”

“I have to go, Dean.  I’ll see you in a couple weeks at the hospital.”

“But we have plans to go shopping for baby stuff tomorrow,” Dean said, voice full of surprise and hurt.

“My sister will take me.  We don’t need to see each other until the birth.”

Cas got into the car, started the engine, and drove away.  He wiped away the tears leaking from his eyes and cursed the pregnancy for making him so overly emotional that he cried for no reason.  He couldn’t wait for it to be over.  He leaned his head back on the headrest.  Of course, once the pregnancy was over, the actual hard part would start.

~~~

Cas pushed the cart through the baby aisles of Target, a glower on his face as he couldn’t decide if he wanted Huggies brand diapers or Pampers.  He hadn’t had to make those kinds of banal decisions about baby items because Dean used to supply him with in-depth research provided by his brother Sam who might possibly be the most excited about the baby than anyone else in either of their families.  And possibly Dean and Cas themselves.  But cutting Dean off had cut Cas off from Sam.  He was further put into his funk as he realized how much he had come to lo—like and appreciate Dean’s family being there for him.

Cas pulled up short as another sharp pain shot down his back.  He winced and rubbed the aching muscles.

“See?” Anna said as she dropped off one package of newborn Huggies and Pampers each.  “This is why we should have gone last week.”

“I didn’t feel like it last week.”

Anna hummed and pretended to check her phone rather than give him another lecture for yelling at Dean.  Cas didn’t want to think about the Alpha.  He was going to see him in six short days for the delivery.  It was going to be awkward as hell with both of their families there and them barely able to talk to each other.  Cas groaned and leaned forward as he clutched his belly.  He could feel the baby squirm.

“Ow, fuck.”

Anna came to his side and looked really concerned now.  “Cas, seriously, are you okay?”

“I think so, I just think—”

He cut off as a splash of warm liquid hit his underwear and began to soak into his jeans.  He looked down at his crotch and then met his sister’s eyes.

“Did you just pee your pants?” she whispered.

“No.  I think my water broke.”

“Oh, fuck.”

The trip out of the store had been a nightmare as the painful contractions had him doubling over every couple of minutes.  People were staring at them and they had to abandon their cart in the middle of the aisle.  Once in the car, Cas had focused on breathing and the small tear in the interior on the roof while his sister drove pell-mell to the hospital.  He was admitted immediately, but the doctors told him he was too close to delivering to get an epidural and it was too late for a caesarian.  Cas had whimpered and grunted and gritted his teeth through twenty minutes of excruciating pain before the door finally opened.  He didn’t know why he’d been expecting Dean, but he was disappointed when it was only his parents who came in.

The doctor arrived shortly after that.  He checked Castiel out and then looked at the group in the room.

“Well, Castiel, you’re nearly completed dilated.  We’re going to need to take you to the delivery room soon, but this little guy is not waiting any longer.  Is your Alpha or Beta here?”

“No,” Cas said, his voice shaking a little.  Then he tensed.  “Jesus!  I didn’t even call him!  I didn’t think—he doesn’t know!  Please, somebody!”

“Shh, shh,” Anna soothed him, stroking back his sweaty hair.  “I texted him before we left the Target parking lot.  He should be here any minute.”

“Okay,” the doctor said.  “We’ll bring him in as soon as he gets here, but we need to head over to the operating room now.”

“Operating room?” Castiel’s mother said sharply.  “You said delivery room.”

The physician tried not to wince.  “Yes, the delivery room has been prepped in an OR.  Just in case.  In natural Omega male births, sometimes it’s best to have everything on hand in case there are any—complications—for the Omega or the baby.”

Cas’ family was stiff and pale.  They all knew what kind of complications could happen, but they’d never put much thought into them because he was going to have a caesarian.  So much for that.  Orderlies came into the room and unlocked the wheels on Cas’ bed.

“Do you have anything of your mate’s with his smell on it?” the doctor asked.  “His scent might help with the pain a bit.”

Cas felt tears form in his eyes.  “No,” he said pitifully.

“It’s okay,” Anna said.  “He’ll be here.  He’s not that far—”

The doors burst open and the room was flooded with Dean, Sam, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and even Ash—the weirdo IT specialist for the bar.  Cas was surprised to see them all there, but his eyes zeroed in on Dean.

“Did I miss it?  Is he here?”

“No, not yet,” Cas said, holding out a hand.  Dean came to him immediately and took his hand.  “And you still don’t know if it’s a boy.”

“Sure I do,” Dean murmured, dropping a kiss in Cas’ hair.  “Sounds exactly like a Winchester boy to cause this kind of commotion.”

“Okay,” the doctor said, “clear a path.  We’re leaving now.  Family, you can all wait in the expecting waiting room.  Nurse Rickett will escort you there.”

“Sounds a little too close to Ratchett for my taste,” Sam mumbled softly, but grudgingly obeyed when he was sent in a different direction from Dean, Cas, and the delivery crew.

Cas looked up at Dean and felt some of the tightness in his chest loosen at the calm in his steady green eyes.  Cas clutched his hand tighter.

“How are you so calm?”

“Because I will be what you need.”

“Thank you,” Cas said, on the verge of tears again.

“Shh,” Dean soothed him, combing his fingers through Cas’ hair.  “It’s okay.  Everything will be okay.”

Everything was not okay—it was painful and frightening—but having Dean’s hand in his and his scent permeating his nose made it bearable.  The baby started crowning before they were even completely inside the OR.  The doctor started shouting orders and people started rushing around the room, grabbing equipment and monitors and hooking Cas up to them.  The electronic beat of Cas’ heart monitor sounded almost as fast the baby’s rapid pulse.  The doctor assured him the rapidness of the baby’s heartbeat was a good thing.  Cas was told to push and he clenched Dean’s hand and pushed and pushed, and then everything slowed down.  Cas felt dizzy from the pain and the exertion and the cool rag on his head being constantly rewet and replaced might have been the only thing keeping him conscious.

There were so many people in the room and Cas felt disoriented.  The only thing he knew for sure was that he was in pain and the baby wasn’t coming out.  Dean stayed up by his head, doing his best to speak calmly and confidently to him.  Cas heard his tone, but rarely understood the words.  There was a long pause—although Cas had lost his concept of time—as the doctors consulted and pulled out more tools and Cas was about to shout at them to just cut him open and rip it out.  Then there was a sharp pain and Cas bit down on something, hard.  He heard Dean hiss in pain.  He opened his eyes, still swimming in the pain, and saw that he had chomped down on the back of Dean’s hand hard enough to break the skin.  It distracted him for a moment.

“S-sorry,” he gasped out.

Dean smiled and continued to pet Cas’ head with his free hand.  “It’s okay.  It’ll just be funny when people keep asking me why my mating mark is on my hand.”

Cas laughed and then groaned as that sent shooting pains through his abdomen.

“One more push,” the doctor said.

“Liar,” Cas groaned.

“I promise.  One more.”

Cas clenched Dean’s hand, squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and bore down.  All of a sudden the pressure he hadn’t been aware of—was gone.  Cas collapsed back onto the bed and breathed.  The pain was still there.  The doctors were doing something and Dean leaned over to look.  He turned back to Cas with a smirk and waved the pinky finger of his free hand at him.  So, it was a boy.  But he wasn’t crying.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.

“One moment, Castiel,” the doctor said and freed the baby from the umbilical cord.  He walked away with another doctor and nurse.  Another doctor got between Cas’ legs and ordered a suture kit.

“Please tell us what’s going on,” Dean said.

The doctors with the baby put his silent body down on a small table and began to work on him.

“Please,” Cas whispered, but he didn’t know who he was asking or for what.

“Your pelvis was too narrow for him to fit through,” a nurse said as she passed equipment to the doctor between Cas’ legs.  “His shoulders couldn’t quite fit through, but he was already lodged partway in.  That’s why we couldn’t do the caesarian.  In order to get him out,wet had to cant his shoulders at an awkward angle.  It’s possible it tore muscles and ligaments in his neck, shoulders, back, and chest.  It may have also damaged his spinal cord or broken his neck.”

“Shit,” Dean said, his voice horrified and broken.

“We also had to cut Castiel’s passage to facilitate the birth.  He’s being stitched right now.  There’s not an excessive amount of blood, so we feel confident there’s no permanent damage or internal bleeding.”

Cas’ eyes were trained on the doctors and the silent body they were manipulating.  He was aware Dean’s hand was squeezing his so hard he might actually break a bone, but he couldn’t feel it.  The room was dead silent, even with so many people crowded inside and working on the patients.  Each passing second seemed like there was a giant clock gear turning at glacial pace—stretching out the echoing clank of each turn of the cog like it was an entire lifetime. 

Then the silence was broken by a piercing shriek of aggravation.  Then a powerful set of tiny lungs drew air and started crying hysterically.  Cas felt a whoosh of breath rush over his face as Dean started breathing again.  Cas let his head drop back—his heart pounding, but at least it was working again.

“Good boy,” the doctor murmured to Cas’ son.  “Attaboy.  Tessa, please go to the NICU and prepare an X-ray.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Two nurses left the room and another helped bundle the baby into a blanket and put it in the doctor’s arms.  He walked over to the bed and Dean and Cas stared with wide eyes at the wet, placenta covered, squalling, red-faced monkey.

“Gross,” Cas exhaled on a weak breath.

“I’m telling him you said that,” Dean murmured in his ear.

The doctor didn’t hand them the baby, but did turn him so they could see him better and so that the baby could see them.  Dean held out a finger and placed it under his nose.  His crying died down.  Cas raised his hand and did the same.  He stopped crying altogether and his blue, unfocused eyes swirled around looking for the source of the scents.  The baby reached out and grabbed Cas’ index finger, squeezing hard.

“That’s a good sign,” the doctor said.  “A very good sign.  But we have to get some X-rays and an MRI immediately to make sure there isn’t any internal damage.  It’s possible he’ll need surgery or to have his bones set.  The good news is that at this age, they’re still very pliable and can bounce back from almost anything.”

“Good,” Dean said, stroking his son’s fuzzy head.  “Hopefully this bullet-shaped head will bounce back too.”

“I’m telling him you said that,” Cas said weakly.

Dean smiled, but then frowned as the doctor turned and walked away with his son.  The baby started screaming again when he lost contact with Cas’ hand.  Cas immediately started crying, unable to listen to his child calling for him and being unable to comfort him.  He wasn’t aware of how long it took them to finish his sutures or being wheeled back to a hospital room, but eventually he was aware that he had been sponge bathed and turned on his side, IV drugs helping to soothe his aches and pains and suppress his fear and worry.

He was also aware that Dean was sitting in a chair pulled right up next to the bed, with his head laying on the mattress and the arm that was beside Cas’ so that they could hold hands.  They had been looking in each other’s eyes for a while now, not speaking, but Cas felt comforted by his presence alone.  At length, Cas mustered up the energy to speak.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“For what, sweetheart?”

“The way I acted.”

Dean gave a tiny shrug of one shoulder so he wouldn’t jostle the bed.  “I figured it was pregnancy hormones.  Especially at that late stage.”

“I don’t just mean last week.  I mean from the beginning.  How I pushed you away, but used you when I wanted.  How I didn’t appreciate you like I should’ve.  How I let you believe that I didn’t care when the truth is—“ Cas got choked up.  “I care, Dean.  I-I c-care so much.”

Dean’s eyes softened and he rubbed his thumb over Cas’ hand.

“Do you understand?” Cas sniffed.  “I really, _really_ care.”

Dean turned his head enough to press his lips against the side of Cas’ hand.

“Lydia wasn’t a date.”

Cas sniffed again.  “No?”

“No.  She was a potential new liquor supplier for the bar.”

Cas let that sink in.  “Potential?”

“She opted not to deal with us.”

Cas winced.  “Sorry.”

“Nah.  Her prices were too high and she didn’t even offer McCallans.”

“The monster.”

“I thought so.”  Dean shuffled closer and put their faces closer together.  “She couldn’t have been a date, Cas.”

“Why not?” he asked, like a petulant child asking for a direct explanation.

“Because I couldn’t date someone when I’m in love with somebody else.”

Warmth bloomed in Cas’ chest and spread throughout his whole body, sending him off on a cloud of euphoria.  Of course, that could have been the scheduled pulse of morphine that just entered his bloodstream, but Cas didn’t think that was it.

They didn’t speak again after that; they didn’t need any more words.

Cas startled awake when Dean jolted awake.  The Alpha sat up, wincing as he worked out the kink in his neck from sleeping at an awkward angle.  Cas saw the reason Dean had awoken: the doctor entered the room, followed by a nurse holding something bundled in a pale green blanket.  Cas squirmed to sit up and Dean used the bed remote to raise the end up so Cas could lean back against it.  The nurse walked right up to Cas and put the fussy bundle into his arms.  Dean leaned over to look at him, and the baby settled down when he caught the scent of his parents.  He was clean now and decidedly less red, but Cas realized he had been just as beautiful the first time he’d seen him as he was now.

“Excellent news,” the doctor said.  “His spinal cord is intact and he had no broken bones.  His shoulder actually dislocated, which allowed him to squeeze through without damaging anything.  We put it back in place and while it will be tender for a few days, he’ll make a full recovery.”

“What about—his brain?” Cas asked tentatively.  “He wasn’t breathing for awhile.”

“The reason is because he came so fast and came out so smoothly,” Cas made a face indicating how much he disagreed with that assessment, “that his lungs were still filled with amniotic fluid.  He was technically ‘breathing’ the whole time.  We can monitor his neurological functions closely for the next several months, but…I feel confident in saying that your little boy is very strong and healthy.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Dean said, sounding a little breathless.  “Thank you for saving them both.”

The doctor smiled humbly.  “They did all the hard work really.  We’ll let you have some privacy now.  Buzz the nurse when you’re ready to see your families.”

Dean nodded acknowledgement and Cas couldn’t even manage that.  He was staring at his son and gently moving the finger the baby had latched on to.  Dean leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on the baby’s head.  Then he kissed Cas’ forehead.  Cas tilted his head back and looked at Dean expectantly.  The Alpha leaned down and kissed his lips, and then their attention returned to their son.

“Baby Boy Winchester,” Cas said.  “You were right.”

“On this bet.  I lost the pool at work.  I was so certain he’d come out during the appointment we’d made.”

Cas let out a small laugh.  “How much you out?”

“Fifty bucks.”

“Hmm.  Seems to me you should have predicted that a Winchester boy would be a troublemaker.”

“Well, I figured he had to get _something_ from you.  I was counting on punctuality.”

Cas laughed again.  “He’ll probably get his positive outlook on life from me.”

Dean huffed out a laugh and leaned forward to kiss Cas’ temple.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said softly.

“Yes, Dean?”

“How about if we were all named Winchester?”

Cas smiled and kissed his son’s tiny hand.  “I’d like that.”


	5. Serendipity (I)

**Serendipity**

1\.  Dogs Draw Their Owners Together (101 Dalmatians Meeting) - Destiel - General Audiences

2\.  Package Delivered to Wrong Address - Destiel - Explicit

3\.  Missed Flights - Destiel - General Audiences


	6. Magical Intervention (I)

**Magical Intervention**

1\.  Sex Pollen - Destiel - Explicit

2\.  Love Spell (quasi Hogwarts AU type thing, but I don't really know anything about the HP series) - Destiel - Teen

3\.  Magical Transformation/Learn a "Valuable" Lesson - Destiel - General Audiences


	7. Anonymous Sex (I)

**Anonymous Sex**

1\.  One and Done Semi-Public Sex (in the bathroom at a club, ha ha) - Destiel - Explicit

2\.  ABO: One Night Stand Turns Out to be the New Boss - Destiel - Explicit

3\.  One Night Stand Turns Out to be the Brother of Sibling's Fiancee - Destiel - Explicit


	8. Sex Work (I)

**Sex Work**

1\.  Stripper AU - Destiel - Explicit

2\.  Escort Service AU - Destiel - Explicit

3\.  Porn Star AU - Destiel  - Explicit


	9. Domestic (I)

**Domestic**

1\.  Newlyweds - Destiel - Explicit

2\.  Kid!fic, Single Parent - Destiel - Mature

3\.  Kid!fic, Parents Together - Destiel - General Audiences


	10. Amnesia (I)

**Amnesia**

1\.  Wake Up in Canon Verse but Thinks Married in AU - Destiel - Mature

2\.  Accident Results in Loss of Three Years of Memories - Destiel - Mature

3\.  Meet Amnesiac, Fall in Love, Past Turns Up Most Inconveniently - Destiel - Explicit


	11. Genderbending - Switched Genders (I)

Genderbending - Switched Gender

 

1\.  Established relationship Dean and fem!Cas are thrust into a parallel universe where Cas must find a new vessel--and it's a dude - Destiel - Explicit

2\.  Dean is cursed by a witch to have a female body - Destiel - Explicit

3\.  Team Free Will experiences a little body hopping - Destiel - Teen


	12. Genderbending - Always a Girl (I)

Genderbending - Always a Girl

 

1\.  Deanna and Castiel meet while on a date with two brothers - fem!Destiel - Explicit

2\.  Castiel is the son of a preacher man, and Deanna wants him to "reach" her - Destiel - Explicit

3\.  Dean likes Bobby's hot new chick mechanic - Destiel - Explicit


	13. Miscellany (I)

**Miscellany**

1\.  Rebound Sex - Destiel - Explicit

2\.  Hate Sex - Destiel - Explicit

3\.  Angry Sex - Destiel - Explicit

4\.  Mistaken Identities - Destiel - Teen

5\.  Sex Battle - Destiel - Explicit

6\.  One is a Ghost - Destiel - Mature


End file.
